


The Fog of War

by GervaiseAlfyn



Series: Champions of Light [3]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Implied Sexual Content, Multi, Seheron, Tevinter Imperium
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-26
Updated: 2017-11-07
Packaged: 2019-01-05 17:04:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 23
Words: 82,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12194088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GervaiseAlfyn/pseuds/GervaiseAlfyn
Summary: Enavir Lavellan wishes to take liberation to Seheron but complications arise in the appearance of a new cult, or is it a very old one?  What are the implications for the future and is there any connection with Solas?





	1. Chapter 1

_The Journal of Enavir Lavellan_

_Haring 9:45_

_It is said that Ashkarri Koslun searched the world for the perfect society and when he found there was none, he developed his own philosophy on how it might be achieved. I wonder if the society promoted by the Qun is truly what he envisaged to be the result of his meditations any more than the Chantry truly reflects the teaching of Andraste. A fair and just society needs laws to protect its citizens from the cruel and corrupt but equally needs to ensure those laws are not used to exploit the vulnerable, however well intentioned. If I want freedom for the slaves, it requires so much more than simply breaking their chains._

_I rather think this is where Fen’Harel went wrong.   True the world of the elves had probably already been thrown into turmoil by the death of Mythal, the dispenser of justice and maintainer of order among both the Evanuris and their servants, but to then remove every leader in one fell swoop was bound to lead to chaos.   The Qun recognised as much when they attempted their takeover of the south.   Corypheus also seemed to have a similar plan. Take away the established order and the majority of people will be left bereft and confused, an ideal situation in which those who aspire to leadership can take control, whether they are suitable for the role or not._

_Solas regrets the destruction he brought upon the physical world of the elves without acknowledging his responsibility for what followed among its people.   He blames and seems to resent the Dalish for maintaining an idealised memory of what the gods had been but he only recalls them as being the Evanuris, the corrupt rulers, without acknowledging how integral that leadership might have been to the development of elven civilisation.   We recall them as the Creators and I think that accurately reflects the part they played initially.   Whatever we elves were to begin with, it was they who encouraged us to develop from our primitive beginnings into the people we became.   They taught us the skills and gave us the laws that allowed our society to establish itself.   Then it was their leadership that helped repel dangers and co-ordinated the efforts of individuals into creating the wonders that he so fondly recalls._

_Raising the Veil and imprisoning them may have resulted in the instant destruction of the magical constructs but it was the chaos and anarchy that followed their disappearance that led to the decay and destruction of our civilisation.       If Fen’Harel had truly wanted us to be free, then he should have taken responsibility for guiding us to a better future.   Instead he seems to have retreated from the consequences of his action and ignored our fate because he intended reversing it as soon as he had reacquired the strength to do so.   So whilst he claims his actions were done for the good of the people, this was merely an excuse and justification for his own desire for revenge._

_I have stated my intention to learn from the past, so would not move on until the groundwork has been done in establishing our new home.   Our fledgling government is functioning well.   The Crows, more specifically the House of Valisti, are a concern but we plan our defence against them tomorrow that I hope will resolve the issue. Then Seheron!_


	2. Chapter 2

           The merchant caravan approached the settlement that was now known as Revasellas, our hope of freedom.   In truth it was little more than a tented community that had grown up on the border between Antiva and the newly founded province on the edge of Tevinter, but the name carried so much more significance than the humble collection of dwellings that had appeared over the preceding few months.   It was a promise of liberation to anyone held against their will and a statement to any who might challenge this declaration.   Slavers were not welcome here from either side of the border.

            A rather more substantial guard tower of stone overlooked the pass that led into the province beyond and it was here that any caravans were required to halt and be examined by the soldiers on duty.   Any with legitimate cargo would simply be required to pay the relevant taxes before being allowed to continue on their way north but those suspected of trafficking slaves would be prevented from doing so and their occupants freed from their captors.   The number of instances of this occurring had reduced significantly over the previous months as it became clear that the rulers of the province would make no exceptions to this law, no matter who you worked for.  

            Not every merchant bothered with heading further north.   Much of the tented city comprised outlets for mutual trade between those arriving from the south and merchants who were natives of Tevinter.   This suited the southerners as many of them had no wish to travel into a war zone, even if the citizens of Arlathan Forest seemed to be successfully maintaining peace within its borders and would ensure their safety even so far as Carastes, for a price.  

            There was an ever present threat of the Qunari invasion of much of southern Tevinter spreading north and eastwards, which is why the route through Arlathan Forest was even necessary.   With Qunari dreadnoughts patrolling the Venefication Sea and having a stranglehold on the Northern Passage, all legitimate merchant shipping preferred to stop at one of the ports in Rialto Bay and continue their cargo onwards overland.   Even the majority of Raiders felt the rewards were not worth the risks of taking on the Qunari navy; as a result Revasellas was a thriving hub of commerce.

            The caravan, comprising some thirty large, enclosed wagons, headed for the border post.   As the soldier indicated he should be allowed to examine the first wagon, the canvas was thrown back to reveal the occupants; a group of twenty, fifteen women and five men, in brightly coloured but scanty clothing that left little to the imagination.  

            “Hello, boys,” called the foremost of these, a human woman of luscious curves and striking facial features. “Looking for some action?”

            They surged forward to advertise their attributes to the watching soldiers, flirting and enticing them with the promise of what they could expect when they were off duty or even before then if they allowed themselves to be distracted from the task at hand.   The canvas was thrown back on the second wagon and revealed a similar cargo.

            Enavir ignored the distraction and continued on to the third wagon, his soldiers continuing to do the same all the way down the line. He had been expecting this ploy and was prepared for what he knew he would find.   The third wagon contained a mix of men and woman, chained to their seats.

            “This one is confiscated,” he called. “Take it out of line.”

            As he turned away, to check their progress further down the caravan, he caught the glimpse of movement out of the corner of his eye.   For every genuinely chained occupant, there was a person who was free to move and armed.   The nearest one struck at him but was thrown back with a shriek.

            “Bet you weren’t expecting that, Crow man” he said with smirk, as he drew Glandivalis and prepared to confront the others that were leaping from the wagon.

            It was a similar situation right down the line, whilst the sex workers likewise had turned hostile, somehow having managed to conceal knives about their person.   They slashed quickly at whoever was closest to them, seemingly more interested in drawing blood from anywhere on their skin than make a hit somewhere vital.   Several were successful and made no attempt to follow up with their attack on that person but continued on to the next.   As soon as they turned away, their potential victim produced a vial and downed the contents.  

            Even so, the soldiers on duty would appear to be outnumbered by the Crow forces. As they surged from the wagons, other merchants already on the ground threw back their cloaks to reveal weapons and assaulted the soldiers from the rear.   However, they were then taken by surprise as yet other occupants of the tents took to the field on the side of the soldiers.   Meanwhile the genuine merchants fled in the opposite direction.

            Enavir slashed through the sword arm of his nearest assailant and moved on to the next with barely a pause in his stride.   Stabbing another in the leg, he glanced briefly at his companions nearest to him.   Polis was holding his own with twin daggers, his eyes two chips of blue and snarling grin on his face.   Farux was surrounded and had backed up against a wagon.   Enavir headed in his direction, taking one of the assailants from the rear and drawing the attention of another towards himself.   He saw Farux give a nod of appreciation.   It seemed they had their section of the battle under control when Polis gave a blood curdling shriek. Enavir looked back at him and saw his body arched backwards, immobile from pain, blood pouring from his mouth, nose and eyes. Enavir cursed and raced to his defence striking his nearest assailant but knew the real danger lay elsewhere.

            “Blood mage!” he yelled.

            “I’m onto it,” responded Cillian as he raced past him.

            Enavir reached Polis and cradled him. Pulling a vial from his belt, he yanked out the stopper with his teeth and shoved the contents between Polis’ lips.  

            “Healer needed here,” he held up his hand.

            Then he let go Polis and scanned the area for the mage.   He realised there was more than one and they had been among those enemy agents hidden among the merchants.   They were using the blood of the slaves within the wagons, as well as their enemies, to fuel their spells.   Several groups of his soldiers seemed to be rendered immobile by their spells, wracked with pain.   At least a few seemed to have been constrained by mind spells to attack their own side.   The mages needed to be taken down quickly.

            As he sped towards the nearest of them, arcs of lightening sheeted across from one to the next.   Cillian was striding across the distance between himself and his opponents, Evanura gleaming with its spirit aura.   Then he disappeared from view, only to appear behind one of the mages, simultaneously running him through.

            Several of the blood mages seemed to realise the danger that Cillian posed and directed their attention towards him, only to find their spells were impotent against his defences.   A couple of them panicked at this discovery and retreated.   One headed straight for Enavir and seeing his way blocked, stopped to cast another spell on him.   The look on his face when it had no affect brought a smile to Enavir’s lips.

            “You’re no mage; you shouldn’t be able to do that,” the mage objected.

            “It seems you don’t know everything, doesn’t it?”

            He called on his guardian spirit and released a wave of power from the Fade.   It caught the mage as he was mid casting another spell and dropped him unconscious.  

            “Bind him,” he called to a soldier who was limping nearby.   Then he headed off once again across the field, looking for more mages to bring down.

            Suddenly he found himself confronted by one of his own side. Farux had a vacant look to his eyes but was clearly intent on fighting with him. Enavir was forced into a less aggressive mode of fighting, concentrating on defending himself rather than winning the confrontation, all the time trying to spot the individual who was controlling his ally.   Eventually he spotted a black robbed figure in the shadow of a nearby tent.   He managed to parry Farux’s sword and then punched him in the stomach with his metal hand.   Farux dropped to his knees, badly winded and Enavir took the opportunity to close on the mage.  

            As he bore down on him, he could see the mage drawing power to himself from his victims, clearly preparing to unleash a spell of massive power.   Enavir likewise prepared his defences against it, calling once again upon his guardian spirit for assistance.   Of greater concern was what the mage was doing to those he was drawing upon for mana; if he continued to do so, it could prove lethal, yet Enavir knew he would not reach him in time.

            The mage looked him in the eye, grinning with triumph, then abruptly his eyes went wide with pain and he gave a shriek that quickly turned to a gurgle as blood spurted from his mouth. He collapsed to the ground to reveal Fenris standing with a snarl on his face and a bloody lump of flesh in his hand.

            “So end all blood mages,” he declared with venom.

            “Welcome back,” responded Enavir wryly.

            “Well don’t just stand there, there are more to kill.”

            Enavir nodded and continued on his way, helping to mop up stray Crows while he scanned the field for mages. There was a last pocket of Crows who were continuing to resist his troops; gradually reducing in number until a half dozen were left standing in a circle facing outwards around a central figure, likely protecting the leader of their expedition.   Cillian joined him, having dealt with the last of the blood mages.

            “Okay men, stand down,” Enavir called as they approached the group. He directed his attention to the leader of the Group. “You would be wise to tell your men to do the same.”

            “What would be the point?” responded the man at the centre. “The Crows always fulfil their contract or die in the attempt.”

            “That is true,” said one of the fighters that had come to the aid of Enavir and his friends. “Except that House Valisti is now officially no longer part of the Crows.   “Those of you wishing to return to our ranks are welcome to do so.” He suddenly threw a dagger that took the leader in the throat. “Except you, of course.”

            The remaining Crows glanced at one another and then one by one threw down their weapons.  

            “I take it I can leave it to you to question them?” Enavir looked at the Crow representative. “We weren’t expecting those blood mages.”

            “They certainly were not any of ours,” the Crow agreed.

            “Then they are all yours. Except any surviving mages, I want to question them too.”

            Enavir turned on his heel and headed back to where he had left the unconscious blood mage.   He was lying with his face to the sky, his eyes vacant.

            “Damn it,” said Enavir.  

            “Looks like there are still other members of House Valisti on the loose,” said Cillian. “They probably decided to silence him so we couldn’t question him about their use of blood mages.”

            “House Valisti is finished, the Crows will see to that, and their representative claims these mages weren’t part of their organisation, so I think it is more likely that his own group decided to silence him.”

            Anierin approached him, looking troubled.

            “Two dozen dead and many more badly affected; that was a bad business and most of them didn’t die from the actual fighting.”

            “Did the antidotes not work?”

            “They worked just fine.   It was those blood mages.   I’ve never encountered spells like that before.   We were lucky not to lose more.   Some of the slaves are in a bad way too.”

            “That will be when the mages got desperate near the end,” said Cillian. “I took them down as quick as I could but not fast enough it seems.”

            “Search the bodies for clues,” said Enavir. “We need to know if these were just southern apostates or from Tevinter.”

            “Make a sweep through the settlement as well and the surrounding woods,” said Cillian.   “We need to know that all enemy agents have been neutralised.”

            “No need,” said Fenris darkly, as he joined them. “I’ve already dealt with them.”

            “In that case, search all bodies for evidence, strip them and burn them.”

            “Right away,” nodded Anierin.

            Fenris’ hands were awash with blood; it made Enavir feel a little nauseated just to see them, knowing how they had got that way.   He noticed Fenris observing him with a wry smile.

            “Fine assassin you are,” Fenris remarked, “getting squeamish over killing our enemies.”

            “They were still people.”

            “Who were quite willing to work with Tevinter blood mages to achieve their aims.”

            “We don’t know that.”

            “I do,” Fenris sneered. “My methods may not be pretty but they are effective; I ran down the last mage in the woods.   They came over with the latest ship from Minrathous and travelled with a caravan here. That’s as much as his body could take before he died.”

            He stalked off leaving Enavir reflecting that he was relieved Fenris was on his side.   Cillian seemed less disturbed by Fenris’ methods but he still looked troubled.

            “Do you suppose the Archon knew about this?”

            “I doubt it. What good would it do to antagonise us?   I’ll let Dorian know anyway.   May be he can do some digging at his end to discover who was behind the operation.”

            “Warn him to take extra care too.   If we’ve got them rattled enough to be active in Antiva, then they’ll have everyone in their sights.”

            “That’s true.   This was a big operation and it failed; they’ll want revenge.”

            They started to circulate among their troops, checking on the injuries to the survivors of the battle.   Polis and Farux were still alive but they looked pale and shaken.

            “I felt like my insides were being pulled out,” said Polis. “I don’t mind admitting I was scared as hell.”

            “I know Chroix said it felt bad when they used your blood but I never imagined it would feel like that,” Farux agreed.

            “I think what they did was more than simple blood sacrifice,” said Cillian.

            “It was worse when he took my mind,” said Farux ruefully.   “To be able to make you turn on your friends like that was horrifying. I could have killed you but it was like I was watching someone else doing it even though I knew it was me.”

            “Don’t trouble yourself,” Enavir reassured him.  “I know how it is with blood magic.   It’s another form of slavery.   That’s why the Dalish condemn its use; that and the knowledge of how much our people have suffered down the years.   It is about the only thing that we have in common with the Chantry.”

            “The southern Chantry,” Cillian reminded him.   “Dorian says the rumour is the Black Divine is no stranger to blood magic.”

            “Among other things,” agreed Enavir. “Anyway, anyone who was afflicted in this latest exchange will be getting at least a month’s leave to recover back at Telanadas, mentally as well as physically.   Don’t go putting a brave face on it if you still feel bad at the end of it. This sort of thing affects your spirit as much as anything.   If you need to talk and we’re not around, seek out my mother; she’s wise in these matters.”

            Their attention was drawn to another caravan making its way towards the settlement.   Enavir called the troops to arms who were still capable of fighting but Fenris hurried up to stop him.

            “Don’t worry, that’s the one I came up with.   It’s mostly elves from the alienage in Starkhaven who wanted to experience life in the north and Anierin’s relatives from Kirkwall. Hawke stayed with them and I came on ahead when we heard the sound of battle.   Speaking of blood mages, you’ll find an old friend of yours with them.”

            “So Merrill finally relented,” said Enavir.   “I’ve been urging her to join us for weeks.”

            “Don’t I know it,” muttered Fenris. He mimicked Merrill’s voice. “Oh Hawke, do you think I should go?   I know the others managed okay when I went to the Arlathvhen but that was only a few weeks.   Does Enavir really think I’m capable of running the school up there in Arlathan?” He returned to his normal voice. “Then Hawke insisted I was _nice_ the entire journey.”

            “That must have been a real strain for you,” said Cillian wryly.

            “I’d like to speak with them both,” said Enavir.

            Fenris narrowed his eyes at Cillian and then went in search of Hawke.   Anierin joined them shortly after.           

            “We’ve been coming up with these amulets on the dead mages.   Must be some sort of emblem of their organisation.”

            It was a three headed dragon in gold in front of a black sun.

            “Odd looking design,” said Enavir. “Not any sort of cult I’m familiar with.”

            “Looks a bit ominous, whoever they are,” remarked Cillian.

            “I’ll leave it with you then,” said Anierin.   “I’ve sent out for reinforcements from our nearest outposts along the southern border. They should be with us by morning.”

            “That’s good to know.   We need to make the wounded comfortable for tonight and then Cillian and I will travel with them back to Telanadas.”

            Enavir removed himself a short distance and contacted Dorian, whom he knew would be anxiously awaiting news of their enterprise..

            “So, Amatus, did the operation go to plan?”

            “Not quite. With the advanced notice of their plot and the co-operation of the main Crow organisation, we were well matched with their numbers and the antidotes my mother had concocted on the advice of Zevran worked a treat.   We’d have had no trouble countering House Valisti on their own but they had the sort of assistance we hadn’t anticipated, blood mages from Minrathous.”

            “Really?”

            “Truly,” Enavir assured him. “Really nasty ones; I’d not encountered any like them before but Fenris was here and he used his unique method of torture on one of them to get confirmation.”

            “You used torture?”

            “No, Fenris did.”

            “No need to sound so defensive. It is sometimes necessary when you’re at war.”

            “No it isn’t.”

            “You’re a very odd fellow at times, Amatus.”

            “That’s what Fenris said.   Anyway, we discussed what we’d witnessed during the battle.   In addition to drawing on the blood of slaves and my soldiers from a distance, they also used a particularly lethal form of blood wound spell known as haemorrhage to harm my troops and blood slave to control their minds.   Damn near forced me to kill one of my men and ended up killing more soldiers than the Crows did, between boiling the blood in their veins and breaking their minds.   Even those who survived the spells barely escaped with their lives and are too shaken to remain on duty.”

            “Hmm, clearly my message isn’t getting through about reform.”

            “I’m glad _you_ said that.   Cillian and I were only immune because of our special connection with the spirit world, which luckily our enemies aren’t aware of.   My spiritual connection with you may protect your mind from attack but you’ll still be physically vulnerable to that sort of spell.   Take care, love, they mean business.”

            “Duly noted.”

            “If you can dig up any research on how to deal with these sorts of attacks, it would be much appreciated.”

            “I’ll see what I can do.   You might try the Litany of Adralla against the mind control.”

            “What’s that?”

            “A spell designed to protect against possession but I believe it counters blood slave as well.   Someone needs to be reciting it at the same time as others are attempting the mind capture, so it isn’t perfect but it is better than nothing.   She wasn’t too popular up here at the time she lived, so she had to flee to the protection of the south.   However, she came from Vyrantium and the Circle there didn’t entirely erase her existence from memory.   After my own near miss with my father, someone suggested I should track down her writings.   I still have a copy somewhere.”

            “That would be a start at least.   May be our own mages could use it as a basis for research.”

            “I’ll send a copy to you on the next ship then.”

            “They were wearing a strange amulet, a three headed dragon over a black sun. Several of them had it, so it would seem to be the symbol of their cult.”

            “That’s a new one on me.   The symbolism is fairly common.   You see a lot of three headed dragons in Tevinter iconography.   Each head represents one of the three kingdoms, Tevinter, Neromenian and Qarinus, that made up the Imperium.   Since the sun symbol is connected with the Maker, I’d assume a black sun would mean his eclipse. Send one over with the next lyrium shipment.   Warn Maevaris too, in case they are active in Qarinus.”

            “I’ll send a despatch tomorrow. Also make discrete enquiries if you can about passengers on merchant ships out of Minrathous to Carastes during the last month.   It would seem they came that way.   May be it will help us pin point who our enemies are.”

            “Half the Magisterium I should imagine but I’ll do my best.”

            “We really wanted to ascertain if it was officially sanctioned in some way.”

            “I hardly think so.   The Archon may not be pleased about you blocking the slavers but you are doing a good job of keeping the trade route open and the Qunari out of the area.   Radonis isn’t stupid; you still have your uses, so why risk antagonising you?”

            “That’s what I thought.   I’ll leave it in your capable hands then.”

            “Always a pleasure to serve, Amatus.”

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

           Hawke, Fenris and Merrill joined Enavir and his team for the debriefing on the encounter with the last of House Valisti. Zevran also joined them having been watching developments from the shadows.

            “I went into the encounter too confident we had everything covered”, said Enavir. “The troops trusted me and I let them down.”

            “Don’t start taking the burden on yourself,” said Cillian. “We’re a team and we take collective responsibility.”

            “The men don’t blame you,” said Anierin.   “No one was forced to serve in this encounter, they all volunteered because they believe in what you are trying to achieve. We all know it could end in our deaths at some point but that is a risk we are prepared to take.   You did your best to prepare us for it; your mother’s antidotes worked a treat, thanks to the information given us by you Zevran, or she’d not have known what poisons she was up against.”

            “The stakes have gone up though,” Enavir reflected.   “House Valisti seems to have been connected with some sort of Tevinter cult, even if the Crows have now officially denounced them and purged them from their ranks.   I assume that means that the slaver activity will be considerably reduced, although I understood from Polis that his father was forced to sell him into slavery by the Crows."

            “From what I have learned it was a similar situation with my mother being forced to serve in a brothel to pay off my father’s debts,” said Zevran. “However, slavery is still officially illegal, so it is likely that it began as indentured servitude and the contract was passed on to whoever paid for it.”

            “That does sound like what was going on when I confronted Stephano a few weeks back.”

            Zevran nodded. “You have to realise that Antiva is a very complicated set up.   The merchant princes are the ones who run the businesses, the Crows just ensure that the wheels turn smoothly and deal with any problems that are drawn to their attention.   So the merchants get them to collect any debts on their behalf.”

            “It’s a similar sort of set up with the Carta and the Merchants’ Guild,” said Hawke.   “Thankfully the Carta have decided that the lyrium trade is far more important to them than appeasing a bunch of slavers, so they are staying out of this latest conflict.   That’s what Varric heard anyway.”

            “That’s welcome news,” said Enavir, with a grateful nod of acknowledgement before returning his attention to Zevran. “So what you’re saying is that Stephano was the one with the contacts in Tevinter?”

            “It could be Orlanda has cultivated them as well.   I heard a rumour concerning the rapid rise of House Valisti under the previous Third Talon, Claudio Valisti, that mentioned blood magic but my informant thought that was all in the past. He died six years ago and there has been no hint of anything since then or I’d have warned you.   I’ll have to delve further on that one. The First and Second Talons had also declined to get involved until there was definite evidence against the Third Talon. Now that they have, I assume they will steer clear of being too involved with slaving activities, particularly after Divine Victoria issued a reminder condemning it.”

            Enavir was thoughtful.   “I think we need to identify who we are dealing with at the Tevinter end, whether it is just some disgruntled merchant with connections to the cult, the rogue cult itself or an officially sponsored faction.”

            “Could it be the Venatori?” suggested Hawke.

            “Not if they are still under Calpernia.   She was buying up slaves before but only in order to set them free.   So stopping the passage of slaves wouldn’t upset her I would have thought.   I never saw any evidence of her using blood magic either.”

            “They were active right across Thedas and Corypheus seemed to have many different people working for him and keeping them privy to only certain information.   Did Calpernia know about Erimond for instance?”

            “She didn’t even know about Corypheus’ binding ritual until I told her and that likely involved blood magic, so you could be right. However, it doesn’t feel like Venatori, if that makes any sense.    At a guess I’d say that these assassins belong to a separate cult that promotes the use of blood magic. They’ve likely kept a low profile in the last few years because they regarded the Venatori as a threat.”

            “Or the Inquisition,” suggested Cillian. “Likely they didn’t want to draw your attention when you had the backing of the entire organisation.   With that out of the way they probably felt bold enough to start up again.   To them slaves would be as valuable as lyrium and the sudden reduction in numbers available to them due to the slave revolts will have made them all the more anxious to obtain fresh supplies from outside the Imperium.”

            “They may have ties to the same organisation we kept running into a few years back,” Fenris glanced at Hawke.   “There was a slaver operation running in Kirkwall, which I think is how they tracked me down so easily.   We kept running into mages from Tevinter in connection with it.   We thought we had got rid of them but they resurfaced again just before the Chantry got blown up, helping to fuel the tensions in the city.   I was never convinced that Anders was working entirely on his own to set that up.”

            “You may well have been right.” Hawke said sadly. “Although I think it likely that he would never have admitted it even to himself.   There was a group of rogue Circle mages and apostates known as the Resolutionists. They called for violent action to bring about change.   Some said they were merely malcontents from the south but we suspected that another hand may have been guiding them, hoping to benefit from the instability they caused and it was rumoured to be Tevinter.”

            “That sounds more like Corypheus and his Venatori.”

            “That’s what we assumed originally, when they came to light.” said Fenris.   “However, since you killed Corypheus, there have been reports of other cultists with a greater interest in restoring the worship of the Old Gods and the spread of blood magic.     I spent some time before Hawke returned tracking some of them to Ferelden.   Having dealt with the group there, I thought that was an end of it.”

            “Did they have an amulet like this?” Enavir held up one of those taken from the dead mages.

            Fenris shook his head.   “That definitely shrieks Tevinter though and my efforts at interrogation established they did indeed come from there.”

            “From what Varric has heard it would seem you weren’t entirely successful in eradication, Fenris," said Hawke.  "A major slaving enterprise was defeated in Ferelden at the end of the summer and it was being directed by a Magister. I seem to recall that the name Valisti was mentioned as well, so it was likely connected with the same cult.”

            “We need to find out exactly who they are and how extensive their following is within Tevinter,” Cillian asserted.  

            “I’ve already got Dorian looking into that.  I also asked if there is anything he could suggest about how to defend against them.  You and I may be immune but that is no consolation if I have to witness my people suffering like they did today. He suggested the Litany of Adralla and is sending us a copy but any input would be welcome. Can you help at all Merrill?”

            Merrill looked startled to be addressed and glanced nervously in the direction of Fenris and Hawke.

            “You know I don’t do blood magic anymore.”

            “I wasn’t asking you to use blood magic against them but if you could give any insights into how it works, so we can find a way to counter it.”

            “You’d do better to ask the Pilgrim.”

            “Who?”

            Hawke grinned. “That’s what Gaspard du Puis calls himself now.   He adopted the moniker when he was doing penance at the Shrine of Sacred Ashes.   Merrill’s right, from what I’ve witnessed and what he confessed to Genevieve, he knows far more than Merrill does.   When we get to Telanadas, I’ll use the sending stone to contact him.”

            “It seems like we’ve arrived at just the right time.” Fenris gave a feral grin. “I like nothing better than hunting down rogue blood mages.”


	4. Chapter 4

           The following morning they started for Telanadas, Hawke’s caravan joining the contingent of wounded soldiers.   This allowed Hawke and Fenris to ride alongside Enavir and catch up on developments to date.

            “Officially in Tevinter we’re still known as the province of Arlathan Forest but we’ve renamed it Elrevasan, Our Place of Freedom.

            “A pretty emphatic statement,” agreed Hawke.   “It’s a pity not everyone understands elven.”

            “The Dread Wolf does.   We’re hoping he gets the message too, wherever he may be, that we’re fighting for our freedom.  That used to be something he cared about.”

            “You think it may sway him?”

            “I’ve no idea but in the absence of further clues, it’s better than nothing.   Our province is basically split into four regions.   The main settlement is still Telenadas which is also the centre of government and western regional base.   Then there is Revasellas in the south, Thenan, the place of watchfulness, on the northern bay and Arla’Adahlen, the forest home, over in the east. The latter is the main focal point for the Daish clans who have been arriving.   The forest over there is much denser and wilder, so they are better suited to the challenges it presents.   They were thrilled when they discovered some herds of wild halla in the region, which are large and strong enough to ride.”

            “Have many Dalish come north?”

            “So far around twenty clans have made the journey and are working well in establishing themselves around our eastern base.”

            “And there are no problems with them and the rest of your people?”

            “They are teaching survival skills to any others who want to join them. Some clans may have forgotten it over the years but our purpose was always to maintain our skills and our culture so we could teach the other elves when we finally had a home again.   I think it has been so long since the Dales that some clans simply thought it would never happen.   Now that it has they are as determined as any of us to make it work, so are happy to take our lead on how to accomplish this. We’ve been setting up the framework of government broadly based on how the clans are organised, adjusted according to what works and doesn’t work elsewhere.   So there are no hereditary rulers, the only exception being our seat on the Magisterium, until such time as we feel we can dispense with our ties to Tevinter.   Other than that we have a ruling council of elders in each region, the Hahren’al, with them reporting back to the TanHahren, the Three Elders, who are based in Telanadas.”

            “That sounds an awful lot like the Qun.”

            “Not all their ideas are bad.  Besides we had a similar set up in the Inquisition and for that matter it is how day to day management of the clan is managed with the Dalish.   Unlike the Qun, the nominal head of state is not the leader of the army, but the Atishan, the Peacemaker.   Essentially they are in charge of ensuring internally everything runs smoothly within our province and the needs of our citizens are met.   By coincidence that role is currently held by my clan mate, Atisha, which helps people get used to the name but it doesn’t have to be a mage, just whoever is most capable and committed to the Vir Atishan, the way of peace.”

            “Well that’s an improvement,” said Fenris.

            “The second leader is the Ghil-Dirthalen, the one who guides seekers of knowledge true.   I got that name from the Crossroads.   They guide education, both mundane and magical, recording and disseminating our lore, research and spiritual affairs.   It is pretty much what the Keepers used to do in the Dales with a few extras.   Cillian is currently in the role but he wants to pass it on to someone trustworthy as soon as he can.   Lastly, there is the Vheneleth, the Safety of the People, the leader of our defence forces, currently Josmael.   Their focus is on keeping our people safe from external threats and internal crime.   They co-ordinate the activities of the Emerald Knights, led by the Elenasalin, Our Victory, currently my clan mate Enansal, the Banal’ras, the Shadows, led by Anierin, with advice from Zevran, and the Fade Hunters, headed up by one of Cillian’s proteges, Shirelle. Eventually we are looking to pass on responsibility to people other than my original companions but we need to get it running first.   The important thing is it will be on merit, not race, birth class or gender.”

            “It sounds a good system in theory,” agreed Hawke. “I’ll be interested to see how it works out in practice.”

            “We realise it is early days yet but we had to start somewhere.”

            “What of you?   I notice you weren’t mentioned.”

            “I am separate, a free agent so to speak.   I go where I am needed whether it is within Elrevasan or elsewhere.   My title here is the Liberator.   I am the bearer of the sword of Shartan and thus the Champion of Freedom.   It is intended to be inspirational.   I am both a figurehead for the whole community and its guardian.”

            Hawke gave laugh.   “What did we start when we gave you Glandivalis?   First you claimed to be Champion of Andraste but now you seem a prophet in your own right.”

            “I merely continue the work of her and Shartan.   That was a joint effort of people who believed in freedom, just as my own has been.   Unlike other alleged prophets who claimed to act in the name of Andraste and the Maker, no one is forced to follow my faith. We do not go to war to impose our religion on others; instead we spread our ideas by example in our homeland and helping others to achieve freedom where needed.

            “What if people in your homeland disagree with your views?”

            “Then they are free to leave.   If they stay it is on the condition they do not cause unrest, except for criminals like slavers and slave hunters.   They are not welcome here.   They will be escorted to our border and if they persist, they die. Our laws are based around the Dalish customs concerning family and community, the Vir Tanadahl and the moral imperatives of the Chant, so they are not hard to follow. Essentially the message is respect for all life. Most transgressions will be small and can be managed at a local level, usually by performing some community service by way of penance.  More serious crimes will be referred to the head of the regional Hahren’al and dealt with appropriately.   Most serious of all will be passed to the TanHahren for judgement.   Anyone can appeal to them as well if they are unhappy with the local decision.”

            “How will you punish more serious offences?”

            “In the majority of cases by exclusion from the community, possibly on a temporary basis depending on the crime, which we hope will be a sufficient deterrent.   The majority of our current citizens are well aware of what life would be like for them outside our protection.   That is the Dalish way of doing things, though, and not always appropriate for more serious crimes, since we would be leaving the perpetrator on the loose to harm other people outside our community.”

            “So how do you deal with those?”

            “Honestly? Community service again, the Servus Publicus.”                                               

            “What!” Fenris yelled at him. “You’re advocating state slavery?”

            “Just hear me out before you condemn us,” Enavir appealed to him calmly.

            Hawke shot Fenris a stern glance and he returned to brooding silence, glaring at Enavir.

            “We considered the options.   Obviously there are going to be some crimes that are so bad the only thing you can do is condemn them to death.”

            “Like Quentin,” stated Hawke emphatically.

            “Exactly,” agreed Enavir. “He was a serial killer, a rogue blood mage necromancer and crazy to boot.   I seem to recall you dealt with another criminal who preyed on elven children with execution.”

            “He actually asked for death.   He felt he couldn’t control himself.   His father, the Magistrate, had tried the alternatives and they hadn’t worked.”

            Enavir nodded his understanding before continuing.

            “However, you have to admit that not all cases are as clear cut and many people will probably not offend again if given a second chance.   When you commit a crime you are essentially abusing your freedom, so it seems only fair that you should be denied your freedom as recompense.”

            “And the Liberati are okay with this?” Fenris interjected with clear scepticism.

            “Actually it was the Liberati who suggested it.   It seems that not all our citizens are innocent victims of the system.   Many were condemned to the mines and quarries for crimes they had committed, although most were trivial by our standards; petty theft or challenging a Magister.   Still you will recall that Chroix was really guilty of murder even if the Magister who sentenced him chose to see it as an accident.”

            “The murder of a blood mage by his slave,” Fenris sneered.

            “You’re missing the point Fenris.   Chroix was a murderer but he didn’t deserve to die for what he did and he is now one of our citizens who are helping make these laws.   The main problem with slavery in Tevinter is the abuse of power by those in charge of them and the fact that it is for an indeterminate amount of time.   Essentially whether you are freed or not is entirely up to the whim of your master, whether that is an individual or the State.   Now indentured servitude is considered a perfectly acceptable means of paying off debts in other parts of Thedas.   You did so yourself, Hawke, I seem to recall.”

            “That is true.”

            “So why not use indentured servitude as a means of paying off your debt to society?   Then all that needs to be decided is the length of term for each offence.   It is less final than executing people and more productive than simply locking them away.”

            “It is still slavery by another name,” argued Fenris. “How does that sit with your title of Liberator?”

            “We are helping liberate them from their base emotions that caused them to commit the crime in the first place.”

            “Seems a convenient accommodation of your lover’s arguments to me,” Fenris sneered.

            Enavir gave a chuckle as he recalled Dorian’s response to the idea.

            “Oh yes, Dorian just loves to rub that one in too.   He’s been teasing me incessantly ever since I admitted that was what we were proposing.   However, as I pointed out to him, his defence always encompassed both individual and state slavery, which is not what we are advocating at all.   Individuals will still not be permitted to own slaves. Whilst there are abuses in the state system, by far the most crimes are committed against slaves behind closed doors in individual households.   Every law that applies to free people, for their protection, will equally apply to the Servus Publicus; which you will recall I argued to the city council in Qarinus should be the case.   Our code will strictly set down what duties they are required to perform and ensure they have the right of appeal if they are being mistreated.”

            “It will be interesting to see if the system does work,” Hawke mused.

            “We can but try,” agreed Enavir.   “If it doesn’t, then we try something else.” He glanced at Fenris. “Yes, it does make negotiations for reform with the Magisterium that bit easier for Dorian if we don’t outlaw it altogether but it is only allowable under strictly controlled circumstances.   The slave trade would still be illegal.   As such my conscience is clear on the matter.”

            “We’ll see,” said Fenris ruefully, but seemed content to let the matter drop.

            “So what else has been happening?” said Hawke.

            “Raven Tabris, the Hero of Ferelden is here with Zevran.   While he has been helping Anierin, she has been visiting the ruins.   She’s checking them out for signs of darkspawn but also wanted to visit the place we found Livia because of the claims made by the demon.”

            “I thought you were going to close off that part,” said Fenris.

            “You will recall I wanted the entire complex sealed but Cillian overruled me. It turns out his instincts were good and Raven is interested in what she may learn down there, so we opened up those lower levels again.   She is committed to finding a cure for the Blight and whilst her lead in the west proved a dead end, she is not about to give up yet.”

“That’s both disappointing and encouraging,” said Hawke.   “With the discovery that red lyrium is also infected with the Blight and rather more difficult to eradicate than simply killing darkspawn, it is definitely important to be pro-active in dealing with it.”  

“That’s what we feel too, which is why we are helping in any way we can. Plus she has been canvassing for new recruits for the Wardens. She is a little disenchanted with the Warden leadership at present, so didn’t feel inclined to take back her post in Vigil’s Keep on her return.   We’re agreed that in the absence of an actual blight, there is no reason for them to take the Joining but it won’t harm to have an official presence here.”

            “Not at all,” said Hawke. “I’m glad at least one senior warden is still taking their duties seriously.”

            “It is rather fortuitous you arriving now as I dare say she will be back in Telanadas when we get there.   She was planning on visiting Kirkwall but by-passed it in favour of a ship to Antiva because of the urgency of our request with regard to the Crows.”

            “Let me guess, her interest in Kirkwall is to do with red lyrium?”

            “Got it in one,” said Enavir. “She will be grateful to be saved the journey. Actually I’m surprised Varric was willing to let you escape for this long.”

            “Varric doesn’t own me,” snorted Hawke.   “May be he’ll just have to work that bit harder and play Wicked Grace a little less while I’m gone.   I was curious about what you were doing up here.   I might also take the opportunity to visit Minrathous.   I’m concerned that Dorian hasn’t been able to locate Feynriel.   Given I’ve been told I’m something of a folk hero in Tevinter, I thought a high profile visit wouldn’t be out of order and if Feynriel is still alive and at liberty, it might encourage him to make an appearance.”

            “I’m sure Dorian would make you most welcome.” He glanced at Fenris. “I thought you declined visiting Minrathous as unsafe for you.”

            “Oh I wouldn’t be travelling to Minrathous,” said Fenris. “I’m sure I’ll find some way of amusing myself while Hawke is there.”

            Enavir nodded and smiled to himself.   Fenris had clearly made sense of the cryptic message he had sent to him via Varric.

******

            It took them three days for the caravan to travel back to Telanadas.   During that journey Cillian spent a lot of his time with Merrill in deep discussion.   The outcome was revealed in camp the final evening.

            “Merrill has agreed to take over from me as the Ghil-Dirthalen once we’ve had the opportunity to introduce her to some of the leading Liberati.   She’s a bit anxious that they might resent her assuming the position but I’ve told her that very few people are even qualified for the role, much less want it.”

            “What did she say to that?”

            “Apparently it made her feel like Varric, whatever that is supposed to mean.”

            Enavir grinned. “An insider joke.   Basically Varric is Viscount of Kirkwall because he’d shown himself to be rather good at organising the re-building of the city and no one else wanted the role.   As a result, they have probably got the best Viscount in the history of the place, even if his efficiency in dealing with paperwork leaves a lot to be desired.”

            “So you have no objections?”

            “To be honest, I had Merrill in mind for the role when I was encouraging her to come north but I didn’t want to scare her off by actually telling her beforehand.   She’s learnt from her mistakes in the past and has had the opportunity to extend her outlook beyond the Dalish, whilst having the grounding of being the Sabrae First for so many years.   Atisha likes her, so they should work well together, and my mother will be in the background to offer her guidance to them both.”

            “Good, that’s settled then.   I’ll be free to go with you whenever you’re ready.”

 


	5. Chapter 5

            On arrival back home, Enavir was greeted enthusiastically by Lauren.  

            “Good, you’re safe. “ She looked at the soldiers being helped from the wagons and her face darkened. “That doesn’t look good; what went wrong?”

            “Tevinter blood mages got involved. It looks like we have a new cult to deal with. I’ll bring you up to speed with the others later.   Has everything been okay here?”

            “Your worries were groundless about a second assault.   Everything has been just fine while you were gone.”   She sounded a little annoyed.

            “That’s good, right?”

            “I just wonder if you didn’t deliberate mislead me, so I’d be safe here instead of where the action was.”           

            “I know better than to try and fool you in that way,” Enavir grinned. “I was genuinely concerned for Atisha with her being so close to her time and Joss being away checking the situation in the east.   I knew I could count on you to keep her safe.”

            Lauren gave him a level stare. “Hmm, you’re excused this time.   Don’t let it happen again, though.   I know you’re planning something and I want to be involved.”

            “You’ll be the first to know when they are finalised but there’s a good deal to work out before then.   Is Raven back from the ruins?”

            “She got in last night.   She’s up in the council room pouring over maps; you’re to join her as soon as you’re ready.”

            “Excellent.”

            He glanced across to where Hawke and Fenris were disembarking their belongings.

            “When you’ve freshened up, I’ll see you in the council room.”

            Giving a signal to Cillian to join him, they made their way to the meeting place.   On entering the room, they found Raven staring at the map of the area on the wall, her dark eyes intense as she studied it.   She appeared to have placed a number of pins in the map around the area of the ancient ruins.

            “Good you’re back,” she said as they entered, without looking at them.

            “Did you discover anything useful?” said Enavir.

            “That’s what I’m trying to fathom.”   She pointed at a red pin to the east side of the ruins.

            “That’s where the arch demon would seem to have been confined; or rather the dragon before it became an arch demon.   I don’t think it was infected when it was imprisoned.”

            “That would agree with the Chant.”

            “Now the interesting part is that prior to the Magister breaking through, that chamber was sealed off from the rest of the ruins.   You were correct and it lies below the level of the Deep Roads.   When the darkspawn broke through and released it, they travelled away from the area, roughly south-east, taking them in the direction of Antiva.”

            “That would fit with what we know of the fourth Blight,” said Cillian.   “It started in northern Antiva.”

            “Correct,” said Raven. “It was also believed that so many darkspawn were slain in that conflict they would never arise again.   More likely they returned to the Deep Roads and then headed in the direction of the next arch demon’s song.   Urthemiel was down in the area of Ferelden, so that drew the darkspawn away from Arlathan Forest.   I certainly could sense no darkspawn in the area.”

            “Well that’s encouraging,” said Enavir.  

            Raven nodded.   “However, the route they took when the fourth Blight began ran directly south-east until it connected with the Deep Roads several miles away.”

            “And that was only after the arch demon was released?”

            “Exactly,” Raven agreed, “Which presented a problem to me, because when I visited the ruins of Cadash Thaig, which was in turn built over the ruins of Cad’Halash, the elves had clearly travelled there from Arlathan.   That was in southern Thedas, likely north of Orzammar and even possibly the other side of the Waking Sea. In fact that seems very likely because it was the dwarves of Kal-Sharok who appeared to have destroyed the Thaig in revenge for helping the elves.” She indicated a yellow pin in the south of the map. “So I’m thinking that there has to be a road running south out of Arlathan.”

            “Wait a minutes,” said Cillian. “You say that the dwarves attacked their own people for helping the elves?”

            “That’s how it appeared to us.   Presumably some merchants from Kal-Sharok must have been in the Thaig when the elves arrived and reported back.   Kal-Sharok was already playing second fiddle to Orzammar by then, so maybe they thought to get some kudos from Tevinter for destroying their enemies.”

            “Except, why did the elves go there in the first place if it was so far south?” Enavir frowned as he thought about it. “They must have been some other than those who had been sleeping in uthenera.”

            “Maybe they used an eluvian,” suggested Cillian.

            “I thought the network wasn’t active then and besides we didn’t find an eluvian.”

            “You didn’t find an eluvian in that part of the complex,” suggested Raven. “I believe it was a separate section from the main city, probably only accessible to the priesthood.   That is why you found no other traces of the elves that had lived there, simply those murals depicting major events in the lives of the gods who were honoured there.   I retraced my steps and took a look at the other side of the first chamber.   It was well hidden but I noticed a strange pattern in one of the murals.   It looked like a small labyrinth. When I trace my finger along it, I heard a click.   I think I needed only to push to find out what lay behind the wall. As we only had a small working party, that’s when I stopped investigating further, since there is no telling what might be there.” She waved her hand at a black pin with a question mark attached.

            “So there _is_ more?” Enavir’s eyes went wide in astonishment.

            “I guessed as much,” said Cillian.   “That’s part of the reason I didn’t want to close it off.   You were so adamant it wasn’t worth saving that it seemed tactful not to mention it at the time and then when you became ill, it really didn’t seem important.”

            “There could be more than just the ruins that could be of benefit,” Raven continued. “If the darkspawn have left this part of the world behind, the Deep Roads could be of use for travel.”

            “Don’t publicise _that_ too widely at present.   I don’t want the Tevinter cultists getting ideas.”

            “Don’t worry,” Raven gave a twisted grin. “This is Warden business and meant to be top secret.   You’re just lucky you happen to be in my good books.”

            “Do you know anything else about this region?”

            “Not a great deal. I’m a southerner after all and the Wardens tend to lose interest in a place once there is no Blight there.   However, there are certain things that strike me.   To begin with, at the beginning of the Fourth Blight the Wardens essentially abandoned Rivain to its fate, yet the people survived.”

            “Are you sure they didn’t just re-populate afterwards?”

            “That seems unlikely considering how ancient their traditions are and how deeply entrenched.   It seems to me that the reason they hold to them so faithfully is that they _did_ survive the Blight.   So I might take the time to travel there at some point and question their lore keepers about it.”

            “You think there may be some clue as to how to cure the Blight there?”

            “Or at the very least repel it.   I wonder if perhaps the Deep Roads do not extend that far.   I know the darkspawn travel on the surface during the blight but they still prefer to keep underground when they can.   Usually it is the fact they can emerge at numerous points, often behind defensive lines, that helps overrun a region. The land link between Rivain and the rest of Thedas is narrow enough that it might have been possible to defend it sufficiently well if the assault was only from one direction on the surface.”

            “An interesting idea,” agreed Cillian.

            “Of course it could simply be that the darkspawn were focussed on the arch demon and since that went south, so did they.”

            “Or sufficient people could have escaped across the sea to Par Vollen,” suggested Enavir. “Darkspawn can’t swim can they?”

            “Not so far as I am aware.   Actually you may have a point there.   There was a Qunari in my forces who had been sent south to research the Blight on behalf of his people. Obviously the Qunari didn’t arrive in Par Vollen until after the Fourth Blight was over but if the people had experienced darkspawn there, you’d think they would have had folklore about it even if there were no written records.”

            “May be they just wanted to have a first-hand account of one of their own.”

            “Still, it does make you wonder,” said Cillian thoughtfully, as he stared at the map. “Do you suppose the Deep Roads do extend beyond the mainland? “   He glanced at Enavir and winked. “It would be helpful to know if they did.”

            There was a brief knock on the door and then Hawke and Fenris entered the room.

            “Raven Tabris, Hero of Ferelden, allow me to introduce Lady Seren Hawke, Champion of Kirkwall and Ser Fenris.”

            “Greetings to you both,” Raven gave a brief bow.

            “I’ve told you before, I don’t have a title,” grumbled Fenris. “Plain Fenris will do.”

            “Social niceties aren’t his strong point,” Hawke said with a grin.

            “That’s okay, they’re not mine either,” said Raven with broad smile, pushing back her unkempt black hair from her face with a casual gesture, “it sort of goes with the territory in the alienage.   I’ve heard a lot about you.”

            “Heard or read?” Hawke said with a pained look.

            “I’m not a great reader. I prefer to listen. Zevran spoke well of you and Enavir here has filled me in on more recent events.   We have a mutual interest in stemming the Blight.”

            “I would imagine the whole of Thedas would be interested in that.”

            “Not whilst it remains a distant threat it would seem.   I have a more immediate urgency to my enquiries, since I am on borrowed time.   You meanwhile feel responsible for releasing red lyrium on the world.   I think that counts as common ground.” She glanced back at Enavir. “You were correct in your conclusions; there were veins of a blighted substance in the rocks where you found the Magister.   What is less clear is which came first, the arch demon or the tainted rocks.”

            “So you’re saying that the lyrium there could have been untainted and then corrupted at the same time as the arch demon?” Enavir questioned for clarification.

            “That is correct.   Clearly the dragon was imprisoned there and the chamber sealed.   Was that to keep it trapped within or other people from harming it?   The entire chamber has lyrium infusing the walls.   Either the prison was chosen because of its presence or in fact that was part of the spell used to seal it in.   The Magister’s forces had not in fact broken through the ancient seal on the door but tunnelled through the rock from an adjoining chamber, which was likely rendered easier by the corruption.   Prior to that, the only exit was through the tunnel made by the darkspawn to release the arch demon. Mind you, I suppose that tunnel could have been the way the dragon entered in the first place and whatever seal was on it was destroyed by the darkspawn.   I will have to research it further but I believe it will make as useful contribution to my studies.”

            “I’m happy to help in whatever way I can,” said Hawke.

            Raven nodded her thanks; then stared at Fenris.   “Zevran told me about you. Those markings are fascinating.   Are they really lyrium?”

            “Embedded in my flesh,” he responded. “It is not a process I would recommend.”

            “Even so, the knowledge to do that must have been considerable.”

            “Stolen knowledge,” commented Cillian.   “We think his master probably found an old elven treatise on the method, translating it the best he could and then refining it by trial and error.”

            “Is that why he chose an elf as his subject?”

            “Possibly, but there is no way of knowing since he is dead,” Fenris said with a sneer.   “He wanted his pet wolf back but I was no longer tame.”  

            Raven moved towards Fenris so she could examine the markings more closely and Fenris started to glow.   Raven started as though given a shock and stepped back.

            “What did you do then?”

            “I did nothing.”

            “You glowed, dear,” said Hawke patiently.

            “Not deliberately.”

            “Well you did,” agreed Enavir and Cillian nodded.   “It stopped again almost immediately.”

            Raven looked curiously at him and then approached again.   Once again he started to glow and Raven flinched.   Fenris lifted his arm and stared at it, puzzled.

            “You seem to be glowing at my approach.”

            “I told you, I’m not doing this.”         

            Enavir had something recalled to memory. “The same thing happened when we got down to the level of the red lyrium in that Chamber.   I thought you had activated your markings as a precaution.”

            “I may have done, it is difficult to recall the sequence of events now.”

            “May be I can help you,” Cillian stated, “By your leave, of course.”

            “You’ll do what exactly?” Fenris stared at him in feral fashion.

            “Help you remember.   It is just a little spell that Cole taught me.”

            “He made people forget, not remember,” objected Enavir.

            “And you are not messing with my mind, mage,” snarled Fenris.

            “Fenris, dear, this could be very important. Let him do it, just for me, hmm?”

            Hawke put her head on one side in endearing fashion and gave him an innocent, wide-eyed questioning look. Fenris gave a deep sigh of resignation and relaxed.

            “Very well, do it.”

            “Every spell has its opposite,” Cillian explained as he approached Fenris. “It is actually easier to get someone to remember than to forget and less of a violation of their freewill.   Close your eyes, Fenris.”

            Cillian stood in front of him and placed his hand gently on his forehead.

            “Remember,” he intoned in barely more than a whisper.

            There were a few seconds silence and then Fenris’s eyes opened in shock.

            “I do remember.   It wasn’t something I did consciously; my body did it on its own.”

            Everyone looked shocked at the declaration, before Raven voiced their thoughts.

            “It’s responding to the taint.”

            Enavir had a further thought; “The lyrium that Denarius used for your markings, where did he get it from?”

            “I have no idea.  I’m sure he would have never told me, so there is no point on using your spell on me for that one.”

            “It is just that your markings are silvery white. The crystal that is normally mined and sold is blue green, just as the potion they make from it.   That looks more like pure lyrium, like I saw in the Deep Roads near the Titan.   The darkspawn wouldn’t go anywhere near it.   Now I see why.   It pained them to do so.”

            “But we fought darkspawn in the Deep Roads,” objected Hawke.   “I never noticed it then.”

            “Were you really watching for when it happened? Presumably you were under attack at the time?”

            “That’s true but what about Grey Wardens we came into contact with. Why didn’t they notice anything?”

            “I had to get quite close for it to happen,” pointed out Raven.

            “But Anders, you and he were together with me a lot of the time.”

            “May be it was different for him; he was possessed after all and glowed as a result.”

            “Oh dear Maker,” Hawke clasped her hands to her mouth in shocked realisation. “He thought it was his anger that corrupted Justice. What if it wasn’t, what if it was the taint inside him?   Do you remember, Fenris, what happened when we approached Corypheus?”

            “I remember he turned on us.”

            “Corypheus could control mage Wardens,” Enavir reminded them.

            “Not when Justice took back control.   Anders fought loyally on our side after that. That was in the early years but Anders became increasingly unstable.   He was always angry but he could be reasoned with.   It was stupid of him to ever allow himself to be possessed but I wonder if it was the taint that was really to blame for what happened.”

            “Solas always maintained that Blight magic was a poisoned chalice”, said Enavir. “It can never be used with safety and will corrupt all it touches.   He thought that the Wardens accepted that fact all too easily instead of questioning their methods and had failed to examine alternatives to combating the Blight as a result.”

            “I inclined to agree,” said Raven with a wry smile.   “Particularly considering the taint is slowly rotting me away from the inside.”

            “I’m sorry,” Enavir felt ashamed. “I had no right to criticise.”

            “No, be my guest.   Contrary to the heroic tales of my exploits, I wasn’t given much choice over imbibing the stuff. Duncan slaughtered one of the recruits who refused. He was newly married, with a pregnant wife and just hadn’t realised what he was getting himself into when he won the tourney for the honour of being a Warden.   Secrecy be damned, they make us drink darkspawn blood infused with lyrium and a drop of the previous arch demon. We fight fire with fire and not surprisingly, we get burned.”

            The other four looked at her in horror.

            “Bellanris! Solas was right to criticise,” said Enavir.

            “So now you understand just why I’m rather more committed to trying to find a cure for this affliction than pandering to the whims of the First Warden.”

            “I’ll help you in any way I can,” Hawke assured her. “We’ll find a way to defeat the Blight that doesn’t result in selling your soul to the Void.”

            “Thanks,” Raven gave a smile. “Oh, by the way, I found this in the ashes of what I assume must have been the Magister you killed.”

            She removed something from a pouch on her belt and held it up.   It was an amulet with a three headed golden dragon over a black sun.

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

           The rest of the day was spent by the newcomers relaxing and recovering from their various exploits over the preceding days.   Enavir dealt with his own duties, reading various reports that had arrived at Telanadas during his absence and passing on information as applicable.  

            Atisha had arranged for a spit roast banquet in the courtyard to welcome their new arrivals that evening.   It was during this that Fenris passed close to Enavir and whispered that he would see him in the map room after it finished.   As the festivities wound down at the end of the evening, Enavir made his excuses and left for the rendezvous, shadowed as always by Cillian.   Fenris joined them soon after.

            “I assume this hasn’t been arranged in order for you to tear out my heart as promised?” Enavir raised his eyebrows questioningly.

            “You’ve been pushing your luck with the indentured servitude idea but you’re safe enough for the present,” Fenris responded with a wry smile. “Besides if I wanted you dead, I’d need to ensure he wasn’t around.” He jerked his head towards Cillian.

            Enavir nodded his agreement.   “So you understood my cryptic message?”

            Fenris recalled the clue Enavir had sent him. “I asked Bellanaris where the sword of the Liberator should strike next.   He responded with the name of a land where the light of hope is obscured by the fog of war.   Of what do I speak?”

            “And the answer is?”

            “Seheron.”

            “I take it you want in on the enterprise?”

            “Let’s not be hasty.   I want to know what exactly you intend to do.”

            “I thought it was obvious.   Liberate Seheron from both Tevinter and the Qun.”

            Fenris breathed out expressively.   “Whew, that’s audacious even by your standards.”   He glanced at Cillian to try and gauge his thoughts on the matter.   “You okay with this?”

            “I trust to Enavir’s inspiration.”

            “That’s the worrying part,” said Fenris. “At least previously we knew he was just winging it.   Now it seems we’re to be part of some holy mission and that disturbs me.”

            “I don’t ask you to be a believer,” said Enavir.

            “I still have to trust this spirit guide of yours whether I believe it’s the divinity or not.   I might remind you the reason I had Glandivalis in the first place is that trusting in the Maker to protect the Liberator didn’t work out all that well for either Shartan or Andraste.”

            “I don’t expect any divine intervention in the actual expedition.   We’ll make our own luck, just as we always do.   I’m just following the lead I was given.   To be honest, I think he’s always been nudging me in the direction I took but I hadn’t acknowledged it until now. You know it actually makes strategic sense to liberate Seheron and hopefully get their leadership to form an alliance with us.   The Qun have shown how important it is to an assault on the mainland.   If Tevinter get hold of it, then they could use it against us in the future. Still if you don’t want to be involved, I won’t hold it against you.”

            “Hold on, I didn’t say that; just voicing the opinion that you are sailing close to the wind. Trying to liberate Seheron is going to make the siege of Qarinus look like a walk in the park.”

            “Nothing like a challenge is there?” Enavir said lightly and grinned.

            “You are completely and utterly insane.”

            “Go on, that’s why you like me,” Enavir winked at him.

            “Hmph,” Fenris snorted. “Lucky for you, I’ve a soft spot for this particular piece of madness.   Let’s face it; you wouldn’t have a hope without me.   So what’s your plan so far?”

            “We’ve been preparing some of the captives from Qarinus for a return to their homeland. Not all of them want to go and we’re not going to force the issue if they don’t.   We’ve been using a form of indentured servitude on them up to now, with them not being free to move around or leave our province, so we could keep track on what they were up to.   Once we depart for Seheron, then the remainder will be freed and able to choose whether they want to stay here or travel elsewhere.   About a month ago we moved the group for repatriation up to Thenan on the north coast. It’s only a small party selected by Chroix. ”

            “So what about your own troops?”

            “I’m not taking any.”

            “Really; that seems a bit risky relying entirely on former enemies.”

            “We can’t spare enough soldiers of guaranteed loyalty to make a difference if they turn hostile, so there doesn’t seem much point in taking any with us.   It’s my idea to do this, so I should be the only one bearing the risk.”

            “What about him?” Fenris jerked his head towards Cillian. “You know what the Qun will do to him if you get captured.”

            “I’m well aware of the risk,” Cillian assured him. “It’s my choice to take it.”

            Fenris just frowned and shook his head in disagreement with their decision.

            “How are you planning on getting there?”

            “We’ve purchased an old fishing boat and are hoping that will fool both sides into ignoring us.”

            “You’ll need a decent crew and navigator none the less.”

            “We’re still looking into that.”

            Fenris moved over to their wall map and indicated an island off the eastern side of the main landmass of Seheron.

            “That is going to be your biggest problem, Qunathras. It is their main base of operations, heavily fortified and well manned.   It is also their processing camp for captives from either Seheron or the mainland.   That is likely where the Soporati nobles from Marothius ended up.   Ultimately, if you want to hold Seheron, you need to remove that threat.   However, we can ignore it for now since I would imagine it will be the focus for Tevinter efforts at present as well, so while both sides are concentrating on each other, it may give us an opportunity to advance our cause on Seheron itself.”

            He turned his attention to the mainland of Seheron and gestured towards the city of the same name, marked on the map in the east of the island.

            “The city of Seheron is also held by the Qun, as are the other off lying islands and the eastern coastlands.   This has always been the most civilised part of Seheron. Before the Qun retook the island, it is where Tevinter were mainly focussed with their settlements.   As a result the native population here tend to favour the Qun because they aren’t Tevinter and they haven’t had the strength to oust Tevinter on their own, plus the re-educators have been at their most effective here.   Many of the most ardent converts were ex-slaves from mainland Tevinter and so needed no re-education.”

            “The Iron Bull says it was a mess because of Tevinter agents sabotaging all efforts at governance.”

            “That’s likely true.  The Qun put their least experienced officers in charge of the city and most of the trouble comes through sabotage. The further away you get from the coastlands of the east, the worse it becomes.”

            Fenris gestured to the western side of the island.

            “This is where you’ll find the most pockets of Tevinter loyalists.   The coastal area is relatively narrow and the terrain quickly becomes more mountainous as you travel inland. There was a major Tevinter stronghold at Arth Velanis on the southern coast but I believe that was destroyed a few years back.   That’s what Varric told me anyway.”

            “How did he know?”

            “I think he was involved in some way.   I never got the full story because he went missing for weeks on end and just after he got back, Cassandra turned up looking for Hawke, so we had to disappear.”

            Fenris tapped the middle of the island.

            “Whatever either side likes to maintain, that has never really been tamed by either of them.   I’ve not been there myself; only heard about it from the Fog Warriors I was with.   It is rugged terrain, covered in jungle with steep sided valleys and jagged peaks.   That is where the true natives live.   They have never surrendered but their numbers have been gradually whittled away, by treachery more than open warfare.   It is these people you will need to win over if you hope to free the island from outside oppression.”

            “That’s what we’ll do then.”

            Fenris gave a wry smile and shook his head.

            “Not that easy my friend.   For a start off if they even get the slightest hint that you were favoured by the Archon and he is a Magister,” he nodded towards Cillian, “then you’re dead.   The same applies to your lover.   If they know you willingly share your bed with Magister, you’ll die a slow and painful death and no assurances that I give are going to be able to help you.”

            “Why do you think I persuaded Dorian to leave me and return to Minrathous?   I knew he wouldn’t be safe on Seheron.”

            “That’s all very well but can you trust those who go with you to keep silent on the matter?”

            “I trust….”

            “No!” Fenris said emphatically.   “First rule of Seheron, you can’t trust anyone, particularly elves.   So get used to the idea that eventually you _will_ be betrayed and be ready to deal with it when it happens.   Okay?”

            Enavir gave a teasing smile. “I was going to say that I trust you but if you say I shouldn’t, then okay.” He shrugged his shoulders.

            “Wise guy, huh?” Fenris gave a broad grin.   “Then I’m in.”

“So are you keeping Hawke in the dark about the plan?”

            “She knows. I showed her the note.   She’s a bright lady and it wouldn’t be too difficult to fathom its meaning for anyone familiar with my history.”

            “And she doesn’t object to you going alone?”

            “If she can send me away to keep me safe, then I can do the same for her.   She understands this is something I have to do.”

            For a moment he stared reflectively at the map on the wall.

            “I aided you last year because of a debt I felt I owed to you.   This one I owe to myself.”


	7. Chapter 7

            As always Enavir’s last action of the day was to contact Dorian.

            “Have you any news?”

            “Actually I do. I sent one of my Liberati to check the shipping records for me.   It looks less suspicious that way.   He said he was trying to trace some missing cargo.   I’ve got a list of all the people who have travelled from here to Carastes in the last month.   Nobody of importance stands out so far as family connections are concerned but I wouldn’t expect that.   However, one name was of interest to me personally because he also showed up on the list of possible suspects for the murder of my father.   Now obviously that could just be because the same assassin was used by both sets of people but it did make me reconsider the possible motives for killing him.   Previously we thought it must be to do with the Venatori taking revenge for spoiling their plans, or may be someone who objected to the Lucerni, but it always did seem odd that they wouldn’t strike at me direct if that was the case.   What if it wasn’t about me at all but something he had uncovered to do with this cult?”

            “That is something worth looking into.”

            “I’m glad you agree.   I’ve also been down at the public archives searching for records of dragon cults. The more recent examples seem to have been centred more on an individual, like Aurelian Titus or Corypheus, who seemed as invested in advancing themselves personally as they were in restoring the worship of their god.”

            “Corypheus seemed unsure whether Dumat existed or not.   He said the throne of the gods was empty and that is why he sought to sit on it.”

            “Exactly and Titus was the same to a large extent. That is because their cults were new inventions even if they claimed to be trying to restore the old Imperium.   However, there are some Old God cults where the main focus was always the deity they served and they were working towards their agenda not their own.   Their faith was helped by the fact that their god had not yet arisen as an arch-demon.”

            “That would narrow down the field a bit.”

            “That’s what I assumed.   Then I remembered that when we were in the Frostback Basin the records of the priesthood to Razikale suggested they were getting disillusioned at the lack of communication, so that would just leave Lusacan.   His worshipers seemed to still have been very active at the time of Hessarian’s purge and were hardest to eradicate, so suffered the most until it was thought they were wiped out.   However, it seems more likely that they disappeared into the shadows to bide their time since that was appropriate to their beliefs. There have been references to them since then; always it would seem at the time of a Blight and the name of this cult is the Last Moon.”

            “Last?”

            “That is the disturbing bit.   Lusacan is the Old God of night and darkness and they look forward to the final battle that will cause their god to ascend and blanket the world in an endless night.”

            “How very jolly,” said Enavir sarcastically.

            “It gets worse. Listen to their creed. ‘Lusacan calls to you. He lives where it is darkest and waits for the day he will rise. Drink of his blood and know the power in darkness: either fear the Night or wield it’. I think they see each blight as moving that bit closer to the time their god will ascend and that it is all part of his plan.”

            “You mean creating arch-demons out of his rival gods?”

            “I think so.   Remember that when a darkspawn horde arises under an arch-demon that a rolling black cloud goes before them that blocks out the sun, darkness in other words.”

            “So you think these cultists approve of the Blight?”

            “Yes and the Black City.   I’ll tell you another thing that they would approve of, using red lyrium.”

            “Do you suppose some of the Venatori could have defected to them after Corypheus’ defeat?”

            “For all we know they could have infiltrated the Venatori and were supporting Corypheus in order to advance their own plans.”

            “If that is the case then they could be even more dangerous and widespread.”

            “Another thing, what if they were in favour of lowering the Veil because of the ensuing fiery chaos?”

            “Like the Promisors.”

            “Not exactly; the Promisors thought that was the only way to cleanse the world to begin anew.   I think these madmen would just think it would hasten the ascendancy of their god and begin the endless night.”

            “We definitely need to find out more about what they have been up to.”

            “Of course we could be dealing with another cult altogether.”

            “All the more reason to investigate their activities.”

            “Did you examine the bodies?”

            “That’s how we came up with the amulets.”

            “No, I mean the actual bodies. Apparently true initiates will have a tattoo over their heart of a stylized black crescent moon.”

            “I don’t know that anyone examined them that closely before burning them but I can check with Anierin.”

            “I suggest doing so.   They also indulge in ritualistic killing with their victims’ bodies mutilated in a specific way but I imagine that would be at one of their shrines.   There may be a small enclave in Minrathous but it’s my guess they are likely based elsewhere in Tevinter, probably near their place of origin.”

            “Which would be?”

            “In the south, where the old kingdom of Neromenian was located; the patron gods were Dumat, Toth and Lusacan.”

            “Also where it is claimed that blood magic was first taught by the god Dumat, I seem to recall.”

            “That’s correct.”

            “And also where the main conflict is occurring.”

            “So people may be even less scrupulous about using forbidden magic.”

            “This is not looking good.   Okay, keep delving at your end and we’ll see what we can come up with at ours.”

            After he had signed off from Dorian, he immediately went to Cillian’s room and knocked.

            “Enter.”

            Enavir did so and found Cillian sitting crossed legged on the floor, apparently meditating.

            “I can come back later if you are in the middle of something.”

            “No matter; something is clearly troubling you.”

            “I’ve just been speaking with Dorian and I think this cult could be a bigger problem than we thought.”

            He ran through the conversation they had just had.

            “So what do you want to do?” Cillian raised an eyebrow. “Postpone our trip to Seheron?”

            “Not entirely but I was wondering if you would take a trip south to Ferelden and talk to the people there.   Check if it was the same group and if they can throw any more light on what they were up to.”

            “Couldn’t someone further south do that?   I don’t like leaving you.   I sort of promised Dorian I wouldn’t.”

            “I’ll have Fenris and what he says about the danger to you on Seheron does have me worried.”

            “You haven’t convinced me yet.”

            “You have an extensive knowledge of elven lore and I think there is a connection between our gods and the deities of Tevinter. You also have a wide knowledge of magic and access to spiritual guidance that can give you additional insights. Look at the damage Corypheus did.   If this cult is on the move then who knows what complications could arise from their actions and we know Fen’Harel isn’t above using people like this to further his own ends.”

            “That’s true.” Cillian sighed. “Okay, Enny, I’ll set out and see what I can find out after we have visited the ruins with Raven.”

 

 


	8. Chapter 8

             The following day they set out for the ancient ruins as both Envair and Cillian wanted to see whether there was anything new to be discovered of importance before they set out on their respective missions.   They were accompanied by Hawke and Raven in addition to Fenris.   The former two intended to spend some time in the ruins making a study of red lyrium, whilst Fenris would travel with Enavir to the coast on completion of their examination of the new section of the ruins and Cillian would head south to Wycome.   A small cohort of Emerald Knights accompanied them as far as the ruins in order to relieve the group currently overseeing operations in that location.

              It was an easy journey compared with their previous visit.   The early part of the route now ran through newly established homesteads cut into the hillsides, the owners of which were active on the land, either farming, hunting or gathering iron bark.   It made for a pleasant trip to be able to witness the progress that was being made by the Liberati in establishing a new life for themselves.   They also did not have to worry about potential enemies as patrols of Emerald Knights were well established in the region.  

              Even when they moved beyond this area on the second day, they could still feel confident that they were unlikely to run into enemy forces, which had been an ever present threat on their first visit.   Scouts were employed purely as a matter of good practice and to avoid the possibility of accidentally provoking the local wildlife.

              On the third day they neared the site of the ruins.  This was the first time that Enavir had visited since his mental breakdown some months earlier. It was very different from how Enavir remembered it.   Much of the undergrowth had been cleared away from the ancient structures, revealing the ornate carving that was consistent with other ruins he had visited.  

               It was clear that the central depression where the settlement had collapsed on itself was only a small part of the greater metropolis.     Even that area had been considerably tidied up and their Liberati mining experts had widened and improved the opening into the depths.   There were still many elves engaged on clearance work in addition to the Emerald Knights guarding the area.   Cillian went to speak with their foreman in order to get an update on developments at the site.

               “They have been able to use much of the stonework in constructing new buildings,” he informed them on returning to the group.   “They’ve held off doing too much in the depths until we give them approval to do so. It seemed best to keep it out of bounds until we are sure it is safe.   The dwarves have been allowed down though.”

               “Dwarves?” queried Enavir.

               “My idea,” said Raven.   “I sent for them the moment you told me that there was an opening to the Deep Roads.   They are going to construct a proper sealed door to the lower level.   Even though there are no darkspawn near at present, it seemed a wise precaution, particularly in view of the red lyrium down there.   They’ll make it with two keys to activate it, one of which I will hold and the other will be given to a trustee from your community.   That way no one goes down there without the other knowing about it.   In view of the effect it seems to have on people, I thought we ought to have some safeguards in place.”

               “You seem to know a lot about the effects of red lyrium,” commented Hawke.  

               “I made it my business to know.   Enavir learned a fair bit from your friend Varric that he passed on and I’ve picked up odds and ends from my other dwarven contacts.   One of the benefits of being a Warden I suppose; the dwarves are more forthcoming than they would be to the majority of surface dwellers.”

               Taking a dozen Emerald Knights with them, they continued on into the depths.   Torches had been set up at regular intervals on the spiral path, all the way to the lift and all signs of ancient corpses had been removed.   This gave it a much less sinister air than on the previous visit but Enavir still felt apprehensive, knowing the affect the ruin had had on him then.   Cillian sensed his unease.

               “Are you going to be okay?”

               “I’ll manage,” he nodded.   “I need to confront my fears or they’ll end up controlling me.   Besides, I’m in a better frame of mind this time round.”

               When everyone had been lowered to the bottom of the lift, Hawke was asked to light the area with one of the veil fire torches on the wall and Raven showed them the labyrinth for activating the hidden door.

               “That was a good spot,” commented Enavir. “I know we weren’t exactly looking for it before, but I doubt I’d have noticed it even if I had.”

               “I don’t see it,” said Hawke.

               “Probably because you are human,” Raven grinned.   “The ancient elves seem to have incorporated many security features that can only be recognised by elves, which would seem to confirm that there must have been other races around they wished to guard against at the time it was constructed.   Likely this one was to prevent intrusion by dwarves. If you take a careful look around the complex, I dare say you will find others like this and one is likely to lead to the Deep Roads exit.” She glanced around to ensure she had everyone’s attention. “So if you’re all ready for action, here we go.”

               She pressed and the door swung inwards, away from them, leading into a short corridor.   They proceeded cautiously.   At the other end of the corridor another door stood open and beyond it a large circular chamber, in the middle of which was a structure that resembled the bough and branches of a tree.   Set into the middle of this was an eluvian.   It was dormant and dark.

               They paused in the doorway to see if any ancient guardian would be activated by their approach but all was quiet.   Enavir indicated they should move forward but Hawke held back in the corridor.

               “It’s best to be on the safe side; since I’m the only human here. If there are objections to my presence I could bring danger to everyone.”

               One by one the elves moved further into the chamber, Cillian lighting the way with his magic.     Then Enavir called a halt.

               “Let me check for signs of recent intrusion before you go any further.”

               He stepped forward slowly, carefully examining the floor for any sign of disturbance or footprints that would indicate someone had entered the chamber before them via the eluvian but nothing seemed in evidence.

               “Watch for traps,” called Raven.

               Enavir nodded and called back as he concentrated on the floor ahead.

               “I may not be an expert at checking for patterns in walls but I was a scout for many years.”

               Then he halted.   There was a pressure plate immediately in front of the step down from the eluvian.   Anyone coming through the mirror from the opposite direction, and not being prepared to deactivate it, would most certainly have stepped on it.   He looked up at the surrounding stonework. There was a pattern that was very similar to the one in the mosaic.   He pointed it out to the others.

               “It looks as though anyone entering via the eluvian would need to press there to deactivate the trap before they could proceed.   No chance of casual intruders in this place.”

               “So it is unlikely the Dread Wolf or his agents have entered here?” said Cillian.

               “If they did, then they knew about the trap.   Still I can’t see any other evidence of recent intrusion, so I’m guessing they haven’t been here yet, if they ever intended to.”

               “That’s a pity in a way.   It means we’re unlikely to find anything useful either.”

               “It depends what you mean by useful,” said Enavir as he moved away from the eluvian, still checking for traps and spied a raised stone table protruding from the opposite side of the chamber to the tree structure.   “Look at this.”

               The others followed him round to where they could see it fully.   Resting on the stone was a pallet of wood untouched by age, on which there was a figure laid out as in a luxurious bed, with pure white sheets covering much of their torso.   The face looked almost untouched by time, the skin pulled just a little tighter over the bones than a living person and the countenance seemed almost serene.

                “Is that what I think I’m seeing?” Cillian said with a reverential awe.

                Enavir nodded and matched his tone in reply. “If what Felassan told Briala was correct, they found something similar in their travels through the eluvians. It is a true Somniari.”

                “So is it safe?” said Raven in totally practical voice.

                “My thoughts entirely,” agreed Fenris.

                The two Dalish elves recovered themselves with a rueful glance to one another.

                “Sorry,” said Enavir. “We did get a bit distracted by our ancestor didn’t we?”

                “We haven’t been attacked,” Cillian pointed out.

                “Yet,” Fenris responded sceptically.

                “Is it even alive?” said Raven.

                “I think we are looking at a male,” said Cillian. “So could we please stop calling him, it; that seems somewhat disrespectful whatever your views are on our ancestors.”

                “Sorry,” said Raven. “Would anyone be kind enough to explain what I am meant to be looking at that rendered the pair of you awestruck. _He_ seems nothing more than a well preserved corpse to me.”

                “Oh so you haven’t heard about our glorious past,” said Fenris with sarcasm. “These chaps were meant to be rather common back them; the honoured elders who had passed into uthenera.”

                “That’s what he is?” Raven frowned.   “Then my question is still valid.   The last time I was in an elven ruin down south the revered elder tried to kill us; or the spirit which had taken up residence did.”

                “Did you do anything to provoke the attack?” suggested Cillian.

                “Erm, well, we might have tampered with the tomb a little.” She looked at them apologetically.   “It had some very good armour in it.   We were fighting the Blight when all is said and done.”

                “Tomb?”

                “Yes, we had to push the lid off.”

                “So it didn’t look like this fellow?”

                “No, I’m pretty sure it was a skeleton.”

                “Not a true Somniari then.” Cillian asserted.   “Or one who had died after entering the state.”

                “Could we perhaps discuss this away from this chamber?” said Fenris. “It makes me uneasy whatever he is and I’m pretty sure that we aren’t meant to be here.”

                Enavir glanced around the chamber and assured himself that there was nothing further of interest within it.

                “Okay, let’s get back to the surface.”

                “You go ahead,” said Cillian. “I want to stay a little longer.”

                “Is that wise on your own?” Enavir said with concern.

                “Don’t worry, I’ll be quite safe,” Cillian responded with an enigmatic smile.

                Enavir didn’t question the assertion.   He suspected it had something to do with his guardian spirit but knew better than to voice it aloud.   Both he and Cillian had benign familiar spirits but that was something known only to them and Dorian.   Fenris in particular would not approve if he knew and Enavir was not sure how anyone in modern Thedas would react, particularly those originating from the south with its Chantry prejudices against such a relationship.   Even his fellow Dalish might baulk at the idea.   So he just nodded his agreement and indicated the others should follow him.

                Back on the surface, they prepared an early lunch and then sat down to discuss their latest discovery.

                “So we have a set of linking chambers deep underground with only one way in, via an eluvian and a possible link to the Deep Roads elsewhere, plus the exit at the other end before the darkspawn got involved because otherwise how did the dragon get in?” said Enavir. “Am I missing anything?”

                “An elven Somniari,” said Fenris dryly.

                Enavir nodded and smiled. “So what do you think; a contemporary with the dragon?”

                “Assuming that the usual way in was through the eluvian, he could have been brought there at a later date,” said Raven.   “That stone table looked more like an altar and he was placed on it having been carried there on the pallet.”

                “So it could have been originally been a place of worship, only accessible to a select priesthood, and then he was brought there when he entered uthenera.”

                “Or when the city was attacked,” suggested Fenris, “To keep him safe from harm.”

                “I thought you said that Morrigan told you the network was closed down at the time of the elven civil war?” said Hawke.

                “Morrigan says a lot of things,” Raven remarked ruefully. “Not all of them to be believed.   Quite apart from anything else, she doesn’t always seem to get her facts right, isn’t that so, Enavir?”

                “Or she just withholds them altogether to suit herself.   It would sure have been helpful if she had told me straight away she knew how arch demons regenerate rather than wait until Corypheus did it in front of our very eyes.”

                “She knew that?” said Hawke.   “There were Varric and I tearing our hair out wondering how he’d managed it and she knew?” She glanced at Raven.   “I suppose she learned it from you?”

                “Oh no,” said Raven. “We were in the dark about the whole thing until Riorden told us and then surprise, surprise I got back to my room and Morrigan knew more.”

                “More?” Enavir, Hawke and Fenris said in unison.

                “Oh, so she didn’t tell you about that?   It turned out that Morrigan knew about it all the time having learned it from Flemeth.   It was likely the main reason they helped us in the first place.   You see they didn’t want to annihilate the arch demon as the Wardens intended, body and soul, they wanted to rescue it.”

                “Rescue it?”

                “Apparently, according to Morrigan, the soul of the Old God was worth saving. It would seem that it was as much a victim of the Blight as everyone else.   So she wanted me to get one of our Grey Wardens to sleep with her, so she could have their baby and, by some sort of ritual, capture the soul of the god at the moment the arch demon was killed.”

                “But you refused.”   Enavir stated.

                “Too right I did. I wasn’t exactly thrilled at the prospect of dying in order to kill the arch demon but at least it made the hell of the joining worth something. Anyway, I went and discussed the matter with Loghain and he said if he was still alive at the end, he was happy to do the deed and begged me not to accept her offer.   So that seemed to settle it.   Boy, was she angry with me.   Stormed out and left the party on the eve of battle. So much for Flemeth saying that the Blight was a threat to us all and she wanted to help.”

                “May be she did but in her own strange way,” said Enavir. “She was harbouring Mythal after all.   Morrigan may not have acted entirely as Flemeth wished anyway.   She accused her of wanting to steal Morrigan’s body when her own wore out but Flemeth denied that was ever the case.   She said you cannot force a soul on the unwilling.”

                “So what was Corypheus doing with the Grey Wardens?” said Raven.

                “He was controlling their minds, so may be that counted as willing.”

                “Souls jumping from body to body, souls being captured at the moment of death and dumped on a foetus and body snatching, willing or unwilling,” Fenris snarled. “And you people wonder why I _hate_ magic.”  

                There was an awkward pause and they ate for a while in silence, before Hawke addressed Raven.

                “I’m intrigued to know, why did you spare the life of Loghain at the Landsmeet?”

                “Believe me, I probably wanted him dead more than anyone.   He was selling my people into slavery.   That’s why I claimed the challenge of defeating him in single combat myself.   I took him down easy enough but before I made the killing blow, Riorden stepped forward to suggest recruiting him instead of simply killing him.     Whilst Alistair was throwing a hissy fit at the very idea, I realised that Loghain was still a war hero to many in Ferelden and to see me, an elf, execute him might come back to bite my people, particularly as my senior warden was offering him an honourable way out.   He might not even survive the joining and there seemed a sort of rough justice in making him take orders from me.”

                “I see.”

                “Besides, if he hadn’t nearly got the country ruined by darkspawn through his actions at Ostagar, getting Cailan killed was probably a good move on his part.   Cailan was planning on putting Anora aside and marrying Celene.”

                “What?”   Hawke’s eyes widened in shock.

                Raven nodded.   “We found his correspondence proving it.   I can’t say I am actually fond of Anora but she is infinitely better than Celene.”

                “Some people claim Celene was an enlightened monarch,” said Hawke.

                “Who burned the elves of Halamshiral for simply wanting justice,” said Enavir.   “She was enlightened when it suited her and anything she did do for the elves of Orlais was only because of Briala.”

                “From what I know of Cailan,” said Raven. “He would have just loved being a Chevalier.   Likely he would have ended up in Val Royeaux enjoying all the pageantry, while Celene controlled him and the Orlesian nobility ran rampant over Ferelden.   The Ferelden nobles, and the Guerrins in particular, may be a bunch of pricks but at least they are _our_ bunch of pricks. Alistair is okay as monarchs go and even he had to admit that sparing Loghain worked out well in the end. He was making a decent job of being our head of state with Anora and things seemed to be going rather well in Denerim and at Vigil’s Keep, so I thought I could take a bit of me time to look into a cure for the taint. Then the Wardens go all peculiar in Orlais and succumb to collective idiocy, which can’t be entirely attributed to Corypheus, plus bloody Teagan bad mouths our Wardens and thinks getting rid of you was a good idea after you had solved the almighty mess the country was in.” She sighed heavily. “Sometimes you wonder if saving the world is really worth the effort.”

                Enavir laughed. “Welcome to the club.   Mind you, I only half saved the world. Bloody Fen’Harel saw to that.”

                At this point the foreman of the workers approached them.

                “We thought you might be interested, we’ve just discovered a different type of ruin up on that ridge overlooking this depression, just beyond the tree line.”

                He pointed to the north-east.

                “Thank you, I’ll take a look,” said Enavir.

                He returned his attention to his companions. “If it’s okay with you, I’ll go alone. It’ll give me a chance for a bit of Dorian time.”

                Hawke and Raven exchanged smirks. “Oh yes, we quite understand.”

                “We’ll let Cillian know where you’ve gone,” added Fenris.

**  
**


	9. Chapter 9

           The ruin occupied one of the high points of the area.   It came as no surprise when Enavir saw the familiar Tevinter iconography of entwined dragon heads on a toppled pillar. Clearly whenever they had used this they wanted to emphasise their display of dominance over the surrounding land. It was a fairly modest structure in size, no bigger than a village Chantry and he guessed it was likely some sort of shrine.   Whilst their workers had not cleared much of the undergrowth as yet, its situation on a rocky outcrop meant it was not as overgrown as most of the elven structures.  

           The style was unlike anything he had seen, even in Qarinus, but called to mind the shrine to Razikale in the Frostback Basin. He surmised it must be from an early period of Tevinter architecture.   In the centre of the building was a raised dais, with a bowl-like structure set into a stone plinth and a drain hole in the centre.   He gave an involuntary shiver as he guessed at the purpose of this object.   The main decoration of this altar was a continuous chain that twisted and turned around the base of the dais without ever seeming to come to an end.   This was common iconography for Andoral, the god of slaves and he reflected on the fact that on his previous visit a demon had claimed that the arch demon confined in the depths had been Andoral.   He decided it was time to call Dorian.   Settling down on the steps to the dais, he spoke the word to activate the crystal.

           “Ma Sa’lath.”

           There was a brief pause while Dorian responded at the other end.

           “Amatus?”  

           Dorian was probably surprised that he was calling so early in the day.   However, he waited for the second code word they had agreed upon to ensure the authenticity of the speaker.

           “Kaffas.” The Tevene for shit spoken very quietly in little more than a whisper.

           “Lath Din.” Dorian responded in a similar way with the elven for not loved.

           Their original activation words had been overheard by Lauren, which she had used when Enavir was too ill to contact Dorian himself. This had led them to consider a secondary code that they should be careful no one else was aware of, as even loyal friends might break under torture.  They had agreed between them that whilst it might not be that difficult for a spy to work out their use of terms of endearment to activate the crystal, it might be rather less obvious that they would follow this up with insults and in the other person’s language.

           “So, do what do I owe the pleasure?” Dorian sounded very relaxed.   “Not that you need a reason but it would be uncharacteristic of you to call at this time without one.”

           “You sound awfully pleased with yourself.”

           “Why wouldn’t I be? I’ve just had a delightful breakfast and now I’m taking my ease on the veranda of my study overlooking the garden.”

           “You’ve only just had breakfast?”

           “Naturally; I needed my beauty sleep.”

           “Out late again!” Enavir pretended to be appalled. “How many times has it been this week?”

           “Don’t nag, dear, it doesn’t become you,” Dorian responded cheekily. “You know I’m a night bird and perform at my best after dark.”

           “I’ll say!” Enavir laughed. Now he no longer felt jealous suspicion as to what Dorian was getting up to in his absence, he was happy to play along. “So what was it _this_ time?”

           “An Imperial Ball; dreadfully tiresome but one must make a show.”

           “They’re still having that sort of thing; your country is at war?”

           “Come, come, one must get one’s priorities right.   You don’t stop scheming against each other simply because of an inconvenience like a war; rather the opposite in fact.   Nothing like mutual adversity to bring out the worst in people and an Imperial Ball is an excellent stage to observe their shenanigans, as you well know.”

           “Was it enlightening?”

           “Reasonably so but more a case of confirming a few suspicions I had about certain individuals and looking for leads on that cult you seem to have uncovered.   So that’s why I was at the Ball, watching who was mingling with whom, and drinking, of course, but only in moderation, lest you are tempted to criticise.”

            “Not dancing?”

            “No, naturally I wouldn’t dream of dancing with anyone but you, Amatus. Besides I didn’t have any scarves.”

            There was a brief pause as they both appeared to be thinking of the last time they had danced together.   Then Dorian gave a sigh.

            “I’m feeling nostalgic; you are clearly a bad influence. So let’s get back to business. Why did you call?”

            “I’m sitting here at present staring at what I must assume is an altar to Andoral. Lots of dragon and chain iconography.   It overlooks the elven ruins.”

            “Bit of a coincidence considering what you were told is down there.”

            “That’s what I thought.”

            “Although if you consider that my people did acquire an awful lot of slaves in the area, I suppose it makes sense that they would raise a shrine in thanks.”

            “So you’re thinking it is just a superb bit of irony?”

            “I’m keeping an open mind on it.   That was the location of the arch demon that was named Andoral at the time.   How did they know?   Did it tell the Grey Wardens?   If Andoral had been popular for worship in the area, may be they just assumed.   I certainly wouldn’t take that demon’s word for it.”

            “I don’t know.   I’ll ask Raven.”

            “You know Andoral would appear to have changed gender and purpose after being incorporated into the pantheon of the Imperium.   Each of the nations that were united to form the Imperium had their own patron deities.   Dumat, Toth and Lusacan were originally the triad of the Neromenians, whereas Razikale was the main patron goddess of Tevinter and Minrathous in particular.   Andoral was female, the goddess of unity and a principle deity of the nation of Qarinus.   Andoralis was the festival associated with her; they simply call it Summerday now, and it has always been considered an auspicious time to announce betrothals or hold marriage ceremonies.”

            “It sounds to me like she was probably some sort of fertility goddess but that image is definitely much closer to the depiction we have of our pantheon, where we believed they held great value in unity and faith in family.   How did a goddess of joyful union turn into a patron of slaves?”

            “Your guess is as good as mine.   May be when we became a more male dominated society.   Zazikel was also previously a goddess, of freedom no less.   Then somehow she transformed into the god of chaos.”

            “Well I suppose depending on your point of view too much freedom for the individual can lead to chaos.   That would seem to be the Qun perspective of things anyway.”

            “It tends to be the view of any society that values strict adherence to traditional customs over personal integrity.”   Dorian said this with an intensity of feeling that indicated the conversation had recalled his own bad experience with being expected to adhere to society conventions.   There was another awkward pause before he continued in a lighter tone.

            “Anything else of interest at the ruins?”

            “We opened the secret door and discovered an inactive eluvian and an ancient Somniari.”

            “Really, you found an actual, ancient, sleeping elf?

            “So it would appear.”

            “So what did that have to say for itself?”

            “Not a lot, sadly; he didn’t seem very animated while the majority of us were there.   Cillian stayed behind to see if he could discover more.   I suspect he was going to consult with his spirit.   He couldn’t risk doing that in front of Fenris.”

            “Yes, I can appreciate why you needed to be discrete on that one.   Well, then you’ll be happy to hear that I am at last making progress with _my_ research. After you told me that Livia was interested, I thought it worth trying to delve a bit more into the history of the place from the Tevinter point of view, to find out why.   I’ve been trying to find the relevant records ever since I returned here but you have to understand the Archives are huge.   Then I had a brain wave.   My family have had a long standing association with Qarinus, allegedly from before the unification, so we would have been in the area at the time Arlathan was discovered.   It was possible they might have left some record of it, so I delved into our area of the family archives.”

            “You have such things?”

            “Oh absolutely; it is a matter of pride that your family is so ancient that you warrant a section in the National Archives, even though no one has consulted them in years.   To be fair, you’d need to be conversant in ancient Tevene, which is why they’ve gathered dust for so long.   Still, thanks to Wilfyr, I’ve rectified that omission.   It’s mostly personal diaries and as such is full of gossip and smut if you like that sort of thing.”

            “Which you do.”

            “That’s it, cast aspersions on my integrity as a scholar; perhaps I shall keep it to myself then.”

            “Come on, you know you’re dying to tell me.”

            “Okay, if you insist.   In amongst all the regular rubbish, there was an absolute gem from the time of Thalasian the Destroyer, otherwise known as the conqueror of Arlathan.”

            “He wasn’t your relative was he?”

            “No, thank goodness.   My relative was a lowly field commander, who got roped in by virtue of being the younger son of his family and expendable, although he eventually outlived all his siblings and their offspring, becoming my direct ancestor.   Quintus Pavus kept a detailed journal of his experiences and they make for very interesting reading.   Hold on a minute and I’ll fetch my translation notes.”

            There was a pause and Enavir could hear the sound of Dorian moving across the room, followed by a rustling of papers.

            “Here we are.   I’ve been working at it for weeks but didn’t want to say anything until I had a complete picture.   By way of introduction, here are some passages from his childhood diary about how he first heard about the elves.

_Satinalia, 176 TE. I have decided upon my mask for the festival.   It shall be in the style of these creatures that settlers have claimed to have sighted in the Haunted Forest.   They are said to resemble humans, but shorter and slimmer, with pointed ears. It will be such a joke; the superstitious peasantry think the forest is full terrifying spirits. It is how it acquired its name. Perhaps I shall summon a few real spirits to add to the effect._

           “So far as I can tell young Quintus was around ten years old at the time and newly come into his powers, so a mite irresponsible.   I’m sure the spirits he was intending summoning were likely nothing more than wisps.”

           “Unless, of course, he was a child protégé like yourself.”

           “Even I wasn’t summoning anything more challenging than wisps at his age.   Anyway, it is clear that no one was unduly disturbed by these early reports or even took them seriously.   This changed, however.

_12 Nubuis, 177 TE. The family is all of a flutter. My eldest brother, Claudius, has been entrusted with the honour of approaching these strange creatures that inhabit the forest.   My father’s work, I imagine. No doubt he is looking to gain the family increased influence with the Magisterium through our contact with these people in much the same way Darinius did with the dwarves. The delegation from Minrathous arrived this afternoon and they are to set out for the forest by the end of the week._

_1Eluviesta, 177 TE. There is a rumour circulating among the servants that the delegation has gone missing._

_3 Eluviesta, 177 TE. Today father confirmed that all contact with our emissaries has been lost.   Mother is distraught and fears the worst.   Everyone is praying for Claudius._

_20 Eluviesta, 177 TE. Only a handful of the scouts sent looking for the delegation have returned.   One brought our birthright with him.   It was found on a burned out husk of a corpse and the metal itself is buckled and twisted as though by great heat.   My brother is indeed dead and it would seem that the inhabitants of the forest are not only hostile but magically gifted.   Word has been sent to Minrathous and we await their instructions on how to proceed._

          “So what do you think to that, Amatus?”

          “It would appear to confirm the official record, that the overtures on the part of the Imperium were initially friendly.   It is also in keeping with our experience in the Arbor Wilds.   A small, peaceful, diplomatic delegation would have stood no chance, even if accompanied by body guards.”

          “And yet the Imperium was strangely reluctant to retaliate.

_30 Ferventis, 177 TE. Finally, father has returned from the capital.   It seems he has got some sort of answer to his repeated requests for action but not what he had hoped. The imperial army will not be engaged against these people but funds have been authorised for the construction of a fortress on the edge of the forest to keep watch for further threats and protect citizens attempting to settle in the area.   The families of the murdered men are outraged but it will have to do._

          “The next mention of this subject is not for another twenty years.   We move to his adult diary.

_28 Verimensis. 197 TE. Today I was betrothed to Drusilla Leonidas.   You’d think when they gave me a name so uninspired as to reflect the order in which I was conceived, I would be able to avoid being called upon to do my filial duty. However, ever since the untimely demise of Claudius, they have taken rather more interest in my welfare and future prospects. Then my second brother, Flavius, was inconsiderate enough to get himself killed hunting wyverns, leaving a distraught bride to be and I must fill in the gap, being the only surviving son of the family. Her family is important in Minrathous and thus the marriage will improve our status there. So I go to the altar in just over three months, unless I can find a way to wriggle out of it._

         “I must say that I am becoming rather fond of Quintus, he seems a man after my own heart.” Dorian remarked.

         “How much I wonder?”

         “Very much; did I mention how the diaries tend to be full of smut?   I’ve edited out the intervening twenty years since they don’t relate to the subject at hand. Let’s just say that I wasn’t the first Pavus to have a liking for strapping young men. You know, it’s so much easier deciphering ancient texts when you know what they’re talking about.”

         Enavir could just imagine the smirk on Dorian’s face as he said this.

         “Anyway, back to the diary.

_Andoralis, 197 TE.   My wedding day, more’s the pity. Unfortunately I could not put my parents off any longer.   Still it was memorable for all the wrong reasons! No sooner had we exchanged vows than a dispatch rider arrived from the fortress.   Another settlement has vanished on the edge of the forest.   That would make three in the space of a month. Honestly, losing one settlement is tragic, but three seems downright careless. Looking on the bright side, father wants me to travel to Minrathous with my new bride and lobby for action._

         “He seems a bit flippant about it all,” objected Enavir.

         “When the Magisterium was as tardy about taking action as his one seemed to be, it is hardly surprising that he can’t take the situation seriously.   Would you believe it was another seventeen years before they finally got around to it?   I suspect it was the change of Archon that did it or may be a change of High Priest of Dumat.

_23 Solis, 214 TE. The Magisterium finally agreed with diverting the Imperial legions into dealing with the hostiles in the Haunted Forest.   Apparently, Dumat is insistent that they must be called to account for their insult to the Imperium.   It’s only taken him nigh on forty years to wake up to that fact.   Still I suppose better late than never.   The Archon made the motion for action, the priesthood of the various gods supported him and so it was passed._

_25 Solis, 214 TE. Sadly, my lowly place in the line of succession and my son coming into his powers means my father now considers me dispensable.  He thinks having a member of the family take an active part in putting down these hostiles will raise our profile within the Imperium and restore family honour in achieving revenge for Claudius. More likely I will get myself killed. I’m to support Magister Lexitor, the Supreme Commander of our forces, as an officer in the field.   That means I’ll likely be on the front line in dealing with this. Oh joy!   Still, on the bright side, Drusilla is to stay in Minrathous and I’ll be sleeping with my men._

         “Literally I take it?” Enavir laughed.

         “You have to allow him some compensation for being sent into a war zone. Anyway now we change to his field journal.   The initial pages are his account of the early stages of the war and it is clear he isn’t enjoying it one bit. Listen.

_7 Ferventis, 215 TE. Lost another twenty men today; May be if the Corypheus of Dumat actually had to fight this damned war himself, he wouldn’t have been so eager to get into it._

        You realise that isn’t our Corypheus.   It would seem to be just the official title of the High Priest, a bit like Inquisitor.”

        “Yes, I knew that.”

        “Right, of course, I was forgetting. So he continues:

_They appear behind our lines, attack us and then melt away without trace. Lexitor is convinced they are using tunnels from the Deep Roads but our dwarven allies assure us that is not the case.   If it is magic they are using, then it is something I have never heard of._

        "What do you make of that?”

        “They must have been using eluvians. That is the only thing that would explain it.   Briala did the same during the Orlesian Civil War.   It would seem that Morrigan was right and so long as you know the key to activate a particular eluvian or section of them, you could continue to use them in one location independently of the main network.”

        “What about the fact that there seemed no obvious entry to the Deep Roads?”

        “Disappointing from our point of view but we haven’t found any so far ourselves. The chambers we found were very deep and the exit was below the Deep Roads. According to Raven it only connected with them some miles away, so I doubt the dwarves would have thought to check that far.”

        “Still it would suggest that there must have been other eluvians than just the one you found.”

        “It would also explain how the refugees got to Cad’Halash before being discovered by the agents from Kal Sharok.   Plus why they wanted to cover up the involvement of that thaig in helping the elves.   Clearly the Imperium would suspect collusion during the actual military campaign that had impeded their success.”

        “Most likely, I’d say.   So moving onto mid-way through the campaign; he’d realised fairly early on that his father was going to be disappointed and revenge was not going to be forthcoming in the short term. The reason the war had lasted as long as it had was that the elves were running rings around the Imperial troops. So they tried a different tactic, trying to capture their enemies alive so they could interrogate them to find out their secrets.

_26 Molioris, 217 TE. It is almost impossible to take these people. They quite literally fight to the death.   We did manage to capture one soldier who had been knocked out during a skirmish, for all the good it did us.   I can’t make heard nor tail of the language he is using but I get the impression that he is spouting obscenities at me and nothing more, no matter what methods we use to extract information._

_28 Molioris 217 TE. Found the captive dead this morning.   Not a mark on him.   There goes another good idea.   I took the opportunity to study the strange marking on his forehead.   They all seem to have these but they vary in appearance.   I have counted eight variations thus far._

       He then had some rough sketches in his journal showing them.   They seem to correspond quite closely with the vallaslin I have seen on your people.”

       “It’s nice to know we got something right.   Still, it also shows that they were worshipping all eight gods at this time and honoured them here even if the settlement was dedicated to one or more of the goddesses.   Whatever went on between them just before the Veil was raised, their followers continued to work together and honour them all, even Fen’Harel, if only to appease him.   It is as though they were in the dark about what went on.   Sorry, I’m going off topic with my musings.   Please carry on.”

       “After that he goes back to recounting engagements with the enemy. There is a lot of repetition, though, so I’ll fast forward to the last year of the siege.   By this time Quintus had risen to the rank of Commander, although he felt it was something of a poisoned chalice.   Still, from our point of view, it is helpful because he gives a first-hand account of the thinking behind the final assault.

_10 Eluviesta 220 TE. Have received orders today.   The Archon wants this engagement wound up at once as it is too great a strain on our resources and the troops are needed in the south. He is coming here with the Corypheus of Dumat to resolve matters personally and we are to give him our full co-operation.     Naturally they will get all the credit if successful._

_25 Eluviesta 220 TE. The enemy are behaving oddly. By this I mean they are no longer resisting capture as they once were.   Does this willing surrender mean they are losing heart? A supreme irony if they are finally capitulating when no doubt those of us who have been here since the outset will get no credit for it.   They all seem to have the markings on their forehead that call to mind the antlers on the strange white deer they ride into battle._

       “The followers of Ghilan’nain,” said Enavir.   “Why just them I wonder?”

_28 Eluviesta 220 TE. The Corypheus arrived and immediately started declaring the stubborn creatures would suffer the fate of the Inghirsh.   This sounds ominous; clearly he has something planned. He isn’t the only one.   Our scouts report increased activity in the city. Anyone would think they are aware of our new arrival._

_30 Eluviesta 220 TE. The Archon arrived today and the Corypheus has revealed his secret weapon, an ensorcelled dragon.   His acolytes have also demanded all our captives to be given over to them. They will not say what for. The priest of Andoral seems put out.   Apparently his animal sacrifices will no longer suffice. I fear some terrible blood magic ritual. What is Dumat thinking of? Surely the other gods will curse us for using people in this way, however strange they seem. The Corypheus, though, does not see them as people, calling them vermin.”_

        “Is he implying that up until that time there had been no human sacrifice?” said Enavir. “I know the early history of humans in the Chant only has them making burned offerings of  animals, both Thalsian, the first priest of Dumat, and the priest of a rival goddess.”

        “Quintus certainly doesn’t seem familiar with it, but if that is the case, I have to ask what made them change?”

        “May be this was just the first time that these priests publicly admitted to it. So the priesthood had been doing it behind the scenes and that is how they rose to power without the rest of the population being aware.”

        “Quintus seems morally repulsed by the idea, thank goodness; may be other people would have been too. Look how the Corypheus conveniently categorised them as animals.    Still if they knew it would cause outrage; that could explain why the priesthood kept it secret but not why the Corypheus chose to reveal himself.

        “Was it the presence of the elves? There would be little sympathy for them in view of what occurred in the preceding years but do you suppose the Corypheus knew our blood would be more potent?”

        “If he did, then Dumat must have told him.”

        “They were having problems in the south.   Didn’t the priest say they would suffer the fate of the Ingrish? Perhaps he had found the blood sacrifice of humans wasn’t sufficient to achieve the power that the Corypheus needed and that is why he came north.  I’ve always thought it odd how Tevinter expanded so rapidly immediately after taking so many elven slaves. I don’t think it was simply because they had a larger workforce but because their spells were more potent owing to our blood.   Whatever the other gods may have been, I’m convinced that Dumat was an alias for one of the Forgotten Ones.   Our legends speak of elves that followed them gaining a twisted and terrible strength and we have always abhorred blood magic, yet some scholars think that the Tevinter priesthood may have learned it from their elven captives.   So what if both sides are correct and the priests learned it from elves who worshipped the Forgotten Ones?   They may even have co-operated willingly if Dumat told them to.”

        “Dumat always seems to be behind every evil act we have been guilty of. That would fit with your elven depiction of the Forgotten Ones.”

        “And Gelduran said he would rise to power once the Creators were out of the way.”

        “It would seem that Solas shut away the wrong set of gods.”

        “Well, our legends say he shut them all away but even if they were physically trapped, the Forgotten Ones still seemed able to communicate.”

        “Then one day they all fell silent.   Likely Dumat’s doing again; he is the god of silence after all.   Anyway, back to the journal:

_Andoralis 220 TE. We have a victory.   I think.   I am still trying to make sense of what I witnessed.   The assault began at midnight.   The dragon was hovering overhead to keep any defenders pinned down and setting light to any structures that would burn. Meanwhile the acolytes were beginning their bloody ritual, summoning demons that were sent in to clear the way for our troops.   Yet at the moment the main body of soldiers started forward, our rear guard alerted us to a mass exodus of the enemy behind our lines.   All was panic and confusion.   Were they attacking or fleeing? They were yelling something in their language, varterral I think it was and our troops in the city started to be attacked by enormous insect-like creatures.   The trees were starting to move and there were rumblings in the depths.   Then I witnessed the most extraordinary sight. The sky looked strange, a greenish glow and nature itself seemed to be responding to the chaos.   The earth seemed to buckle, rising up and then collapsing, so what had been a proud city became ruined stone and then buried under a mass of earth.   By morning you would never know the city had ever existed._

_The Corypheus has claimed a victory for his god, reminding us of the fabled city of Barindur that had been punished for resisting the will of Dumat. Meanwhile our local priest of Andoral is also claiming credit, pointing out how it occurred on her feast day and was a triumph for the unity of the Imperium.   As a result we have been favoured with many thousands of slaves to aid our future endeavours, having succeeded in capturing many of the enemy alive.   That will be the official record.   To be honest I don’t think they were soldiers at all but ordinary citizens fleeing the carnage. As for the claim that Dumat was responsible for the victory, I am not so sure but know better than to dispute with that view in public.  The Archon and the Corypheus have generously agreed to share credit for this victory, both with the priest of Andoral and the veteran commanders of the campaign, so incredibly not only have I survived but I am also to be a war hero.   A pity father didn’t live to see my triumph, although I feel tainted by what was done with the captives.   I am ashamed to say that the other commanders are less scrupulous; I fear a precedent has been set for future campaigns._

         “So Amatus, what do you make of that?”

         “I think we have an explanation for how Andoral changed her sphere of interest.  It looks as though Quintus was right and this was the point at which Tevinter descended into depravity. As for the fate of the city, it is as we thought; the priest of Dumat only took the credit for what occurred. Whatever caused the entombment of the city, it wasn’t his magic.   If your ancestor suspected this, then other witnesses may have thought so too. It was probably why the Archon and the Corypheus decided to buy off the commanders.”

         “That’s what I was thinking.   May be one of them was even Livia’s ancestor and that is what caused her interest.   Alternatively, it was one of the unknown cult members, who needed her to translate a document they had in their possession and she encouraged acting on the information.”

         “So it wasn’t just speculative on their part; they definitely suspected the elves might have been hiding something.   Yet, I am struck by what Quintus said about the elves seemingly knowing about the assault in advance.   They had been maintaining their defence for six years without changing their tactics and then the moment Tevinter decided to make their big push, the elves were ready to evacuate at the same time. How did they know?”

          “Because the Somniari told them,” Cillian’s voice intruded onto their conversation.  

          Enavir looked up to see him standing calmly observing him.   Cillian could be as stealthy as a rogue when he wanted to be.

          “Have you been there long?”

          “Long enough,” he said dryly. “Hi there, Dorian.”

          “Good day to you; oh devoted one.   So you have a theory on this?”

          “More than a theory, an eye witness perspective.  I made a connection with the Somniari. So now I shall give you the other side of the story.”


	10. Chapter 10

           “He spoke to you?” Enavir was amazed and it was clear from the exclamation at the other end of the crystal that Dorian was likewise impressed.

           “Not spoke so much as shared his thoughts, mostly in the form of mental images of what occurred and the odd word in elven.   When a Somniari reaches that state of existence they are never going to return to their body and revive in this world but it remains as an anchor to it, so their spirit doesn’t disappear into the Fade entirely.   This is particularly important in a case like his where all other things that tie him to this world have long since departed.”

           Cillian sat himself beside Enavir.

           “Fenris and Raven were right to feel afraid.   In normal circumstances the Somniari might have sent spirits to attack intruders but he has little motivation left to do so and besides his curiosity was roused by our companion spirits, particularly my own.   He recognised me as a follower of the Dirth’ena Enasalin. I think he found it difficult to place the others as they have no spirits but he assumed that you were the one I was guarding.   He called you a vhensolas.   I think the translation would be ‘one of the people who stand tall’, probably indicating a place of leadership among the people.”

           “In other words, a noble,” Enavir concluded without enthusiasm.

           Dorian could be heard laughing at the other end.

           “So what did happen here?” said Enavir, doing his best to ignore him.

           “Pretty much what we surmised; when Tevinter discovered the settlement here, the main aim of the inhabitants was to keep them away.   Our legends are mostly true.   The Somniari couldn’t see the entire world from the Fade but they could see the world closest to their sphere of influence and communicate with their priesthood on how issues should be dealt with. This _was_ a place dedicated to Ghilan’nain and when the settlement was still active, the entire forest came under his purview and protection.   It would seem he had entered that state after the gods went missing, to try and make contact.     Unlike the priesthood of Mythal, who knew their god was dead, here they only had the conjecture that the sudden dampening of magic had anything to do with it.   They heard the rumours that it was connected to the actions of Fen’Harel and he had somehow trapped their gods.   Before she departed through her eluvian, she had brought her dragon here to be cared for by the priesthood until her return. She was most concerned that someone might try and harm it.   So guarding the dragon became their sacred trust, just as protecting the Well of Sorrows was for the sentinels.”

          “You’re saying she left through that eluvian?”

          “No, that is how the priesthood accessed the refuge from the main city.   Before I tried communicating with him, I inspected the chamber and discovered a pattern on one of the columns opposite his stone table, behind the other eluvian.  When I traced the pattern it deactivated the magical glyph of invisibility, revealing a second eluvian that had previously been hidden from sight, which I asked him about.   That eluvian was for the use of the goddess alone or her high priest.”

          “So could either eluvian still be used?”

          “It may be possible to activate one or both of them.   You’d need the right key.   As I understand it, the priesthood locked theirs from the other side and in any case it was part of a local network; which is why they were still able to access it after the main complex was shut down, probably by Solas, during the elven civil war.   As for the other, I sensed that it was not something I should press him about.   He may not know but in any case, it is forbidden to you or I and who knows where you’d end up even if you were able to use it.”

          “Excuse me,” Dorian’s voice interjected, “but wasn’t that friend of Solas charged with getting hold of the eluvian network?   If Solas shut them down, why didn’t he just activate them himself when he woke up?”

          “A good question,” responded Cillian with dry sarcasm.   “However, only he really knows the answer to that.   Besides that is not the most interesting part of what the Somniari imparted to me.     Towards the end of the Tevinter assault, he became aware that a priest of one of his enemies was approaching the city.”

          “The Corypheus of Dumat?”

          “I’m guessing so.   I had a vision of a human in black robes covered in red dragon motifs.”

          “Well my ancestor only mentioned the Corypheus being new to the scene in his diary, so I guess you are right,” agreed Dorian.

          "The Somniari feared he would discover the presence of the dragon if allowed to stay long in the area.   He had already been disturbed by the activities of the dwarves investigating the Deep Road entrances.   So he instructed his priesthood to arrange for the evacuation of the site when the Corypheus started his main assault.   Instead of resisting them, they would allow them to invade the upper halls, whilst simultaneously the inhabitants would flee through the eluvians.   Most would end up in the surrounding forest, as they had done when fighting a guerrilla war during the previous six years, and distract from what the main priesthood were doing.   The latter emerged onto the surrounding plateau and linked their efforts via foci to enact a powerful spell designed to awaken the spirits of the forest itself.   The results were described in sufficiently evocative language by your ancestor, Dorian.”

          “As we thought, the ordinary elves were sacrificed to protect the few,” said Enavir bitterly.

          “That wasn’t his intention,” said Cillian gently.   “They were being given a chance to escape while at the same time ensuring their sacred trust was not violated.   The ensuing chaos should have left the Tevinter soldiers in a state of shock.   Unfortunately it would seem that some kept their wits about them and blocked their way. They also hunted them down afterwards. Even so, some of them must have been successful.   Raven found their relics in Cad’Halash and it may well be that the last battle on Sundermount was fought by the survivors of Arlathan Forest, having been pursued there by the vengeful Tevinter.”

          “Couldn’t he have helped them more?” Enavir said accusingly.

          “Enny, you are starting to sound like Fenris when he talks about Magisters.   Not all the priesthood were bad people.   This city had been maintained for over two thousand years after the gods were shut away. They were certainly more productive than the priesthood of Mythal in the south, at least trying to provide some sort of leadership in the chaos that followed for the ordinary elves.   Our existence is largely down to them.   They cannot have been that bad or we would not have such fond memories of that time, even allowing for the fact that anything would seem better than slavery under the Magisters.   You need to keep a sense of perspective.”

          “He’s right, you know,” agreed Dorian. “You should at least give them the benefit of the doubt.   Not all Tevinter nobles are the same remember?”

          Enavir nodded his acceptance of their reproof. “Point conceded.”

          “The Somniari also needed to conceal his presence from the Corypheus.   He had to believe that when the city collapsed, it had been utterly destroyed.   So whatever he may have wished to do, he simply had to watch passively.   Luckily it would seem the High Priest of Dumat was either so arrogant he actually did think his magic was responsible or at least so deluded that he thought his god had answered his prayers.   If Dumat suspected anything different, maybe he thought it unwise to disillusion his priest.   It doesn’t do to let your faithful think there is someone else more powerful than your god.”

          “Dumat succeeded in the end, though, if the Blight was released deliberately on his part.   Did the somniari have anything to say about that?”

          “That is the sad part really,” Cillian sounded genuinely sympathetic to the Somniari’s predicament.   “Without the constant interaction with his living priesthood, his connection with the world weakened, so he could see very little beyond his immediate area.   The only thing he had to sustain him was his link with his goddess.   It wasn’t a conscious connection on the part of the dragon. Whatever its relation to the goddess was concerned, without the goddess active in the world, the dragon seemed to be in a state of uthenera too.   In its case, though, it was with a view to eventually awakening when the goddess returned, so it needed to draw on the Fade to a much greater extent than he did for sustenance.   That is how he was aware of its presence near at hand, through the ripples in the Fade and the song he could hear.   Then one day the singing stopped.   He thought that perhaps his goddess had finally returned and the dragon had awakened but when he reached out with his mind there was nothing, just silence and darkness. After that there was only isolation and loneliness; periods when he can recall nothing at all, until he sensed our presence in the chamber.     I suppose we were lucky.   After so long alone, he could have gone insane and just attacked without question; instead he held back in the hope his long vigil was finally at an end.

          “What did you tell him?”

          “I didn’t know what to say.   Should I have admitted we are actively working to prevent the return of his goddess?   Should I have told him what became of the dragon?”

          “Probably not a good idea; that might have sent him over the edge.   Still, he might know something about the origins of the Blight.”

          “I think that’s unlikely.   If he knew it existed, would they not have guarded the dragon better against it?”

          “So it wasn’t shut away because it had the taint?”

          "No, I think Raven was right.   He gave me a vision of the dragon as he knew it and it looked beautiful and majestic, not the rotting, corrupted monster that is an arch demon.”

          “So what did you tell him?”

          “I said that the dragon must have awoken and left its lair some years before we got here because we had found it empty, which was true enough.   I also said we were trying to discover what happened to it, which is also near enough the truth since we don’t really have all the facts.   Then I told him that his people had returned to the forest and reclaimed it for our own.   He didn’t dispute this claim.   Maybe the presence of my spirit does make me appear more like his people as he remembered them.   Then again, many of those that he governed from the Fade were like us.   Whatever the case, my declaration did seem to bring him some semblance of peace and he said he would now depart for the farthest reaches of the Beyond.   I restored the glyph on the second eluvian before I left and sealed the chamber, so I do not believe it will present a danger to anyone even within the underground complex, let alone on the surface.”

          “Let’s hope so,” said Enavir.   “The presence of the eluvians is still a threat so long as Solas controls them.”

          “We’ll put a permanent guard on watch down there, in case anyone should come through the eluvian,” suggested Cillian.   “Otherwise, I think we should carry on trying to open up the complex as a possible shelter if things go badly.”

          “Agreed,” said Enavir.

          “Well, I have to say it has been a fascinating morning,” Dorian said cheerily.   “So glad you called, Amatus, but I must love you and leave you, it’s time for my bath.”

 

 


	11. Chapter 11

            Enavir and Cillian returned to camp and discussed their findings with the rest of the group.

            “So the dragon was definitely uncorrupted after the city fell to Tevinter,” said Hawke.

            “Yes, but there was something odd in the account,” said Raven. “The somniari said the song from the dragon stopped.   Yet the Wardens can hear the song, as can the darkspawn.   I can understand the song becoming fainter as the arch-demon moved away but not the sudden silence.”

            “What if it was a different song?” suggested Hawke. “Both lyrium and red lyrium give off a song but they are different from one another.”

            “So when the darkspawn broke through and corrupted the beast, the song changed,” Raven speculated.

            “That can’t be right,” objected Cillian. “According to Chantry lore it is the song of the Old God which attracts them.”

            “The Chant of Light could be wrong,” suggested Enavir.   “It wouldn’t be the first time. It claims that the Magisters were punished for walking bodily in the Fade because the living aren’t meant to go there but we did okay.”

            “They didn’t go to the ordinary Fade, though, did they?” said Fenris. “They went to the city at the heart of the Fade.   It is possible that was always off limits to mere mortals, even at the time of the Evanuris.”

            “Our lore states the Golden City was the home of the gods,” Cillian agreed. “Our lore also says that Arlathan was the centre of the world and the best of the ancient elves would go there to trade knowledge.   Since there was nothing dividing the Waking World from the Beyond and they also created the Crossroads, which seemed to bridge the two, it may have appeared to be the centre of the world to the ordinary elves, particularly if they weren’t permitted to travel there.”

            “Do you suppose it was only ever accessible by eluvian?” said Enavir. “You found two eluvians, one which would seem to lead from the ordinary city and the other forbidden to anyone but the goddess and her high priest.”

            “I would think the eluvian led to the Crossroads, which may well also have been forbidden to the lesser elves,” suggested Cillian. “Then the link to the Golden City was from there.”

            “Unless the Crossroads was originally all part of the Golden City,” said Enavir. “It was sustained by magic of the Fade and when Solas raised the Veil it broke apart.   The Golden City was probably the bit that was broken off and left in the Fade.”

            “Whatever the case, he controls the eluvians now,” said Cillian.

            “They may yet prove useful against him,” suggested Enavir, “even if it is only to establish if the entire network has been activated again.”

            “I think we need to do more research into the origins of the Old God religion,” said Hawke, “Particularly since there seems to be a cult active in the world and with an interested in the fate of the previous arch-demons as well.”

            “Or red lyrium,” Raven reminded her.

            “Or both,” said Hawke. “There was some activity in Starkhaven that seemed to be connected with people trying to discover the secrets of red lyrium and the perpetrators would seem to have fled to Tevinter.   If you don’t mind, Raven, I think I’ll head to Minrathous and help Dorian with his efforts there.   If the archives are as big as he maintains, then it may need more than one person working on it.   I’ve still got some residual credit there from killing the Arishok and as the representative of the Viscount of Kirkwall I should be able to garner a few more favours.”

            “Okay, I’ll continue my research at this end, particularly trying to map the Deep Roads in the area.”

            “Then I’d better set out for Wycome,” said Cillian. “I can check on how relations are there and then travel on by ship to Denerim.”

            “Ask them to loan you their sending stone,” said Enavir.   “That way you can contact the other holders direct if you discover anything useful and it will be quicker than relying on other means of communication.”

            “You might try visiting the old Circle Tower at Kinloch Hold as well,” suggested Raven. “It was originally a Tevinter tower and I’m pretty sure that some of the stuff in the library there, and certainly within the archives in the basement, date from that time.   You might be able to find information there that has been removed or lost in Minrathous. They had a book on eluvians that was stolen by an elven apostate.   There was also a catalogue on elven relics and an ancient Tevinter statue. It’s worth a look if nothing else.”

            Cillian removed his sword belt and handed it to Enavir.

            “Give this to Joss for me will you.   Evanura should stay with him.”

            Their revised plans were put into action.   Hawke was to leave immediately for Minrathous. If she took the swiftest route to Carastes, she could catch up with the latest lyrium shipment before it left for the capital, which always went by the fastest and best guarded vessel afloat, and be with Dorian within a fortnight. Once there she could help Dorian in sifting through the archives and aid his security whilst searching for leads on the rogue cult and tracking any information on red lyrium.   Raven was going to continue for a time at the ruins, checking for any other concealed sections with the aid of her dwarven friends, while Enavir and Fenris set out for the coast, three days’ journey away.

            As they neared the northern bay, the height of the land allowed them to look out across the sea.   A small sailing vessel was moored just beyond the wreckage of the dreadnoughts they had sunk the previous autumn, with rowing boats heading towards it.

            “It looks like it is nearly ready to sail,” Enavir remarked.   “Lauren came up here while we were at the ruins to ensure it was properly stocked. It’s a converted fishing smack. I’m hoping it will fool the Qunari sufficiently provided we keep at a distance from any other vessels.   It seemed the only way for us to have a hope of getting through their blockade.”

            They started along the cliff path towards the watch tower overlooking the bay.

            “So what are you doing for crew?”           

            “Well if Zevran was successful in recruiting an old friend on our behalf, they will have been provided by our captain and navigator and she should be here by now.

            “She?” Fenris shook his head knowingly. “Zevran’s old friend you say? I’ve a feeling I may know her too.  She wouldn’t be called Isabela by any chance?”

            “Make that Admiral Isabela,” called a sultry female voice.

            A figure moved onto the path in front of them, a dusky skinned, dark haired woman, scantily clad in a short tunic but with thigh high boots and a large brimmed hat, topped with a feather.   Lauren followed her onto the path.

            “Hello, Fenris, still wearing that spiky armour I see.” Isabela said in a sensuous tone and gave a provocative pout.   “Is Hawke no longer with you?”

            “Temporarily, that’s all.”

            Isabela gave an exaggerated sigh.   “Such a pity.”

            “I’m surprised you wanted to be a part of this,” said Fenris.

            “I surprised myself in agreeing to it.   After two narrow shaves with the Qunari you’d think I’d learned my lesson but the Siren’s Call is in dry dock having the barnacles scrapped off her hull, the majority of my crew is on extended shore leave and I’m as bored as hell, plus there was the mention of a substantial reward for helping.   Zevran seemed to think I might enjoy a change of scenery and I’m thinking he might be right.”

            Her gaze ran over Enavir approvingly and she gave a seductive smile.

            “He’s taken,” Lauren said testily.

            Isabela glanced at her with a wink. “By you my sweet?”

            “No.” Lauren informed her curtly. “I’m not his type.”

            “Of course,” Isabela laughed. “Zevran informed me I wouldn’t be his type either.   Still you can’t blame a girl for trying.”

            By the look on Lauren’s face, Enavir guessed she probably could.   Isabela’s tone became more serious.           

            “Zevran thought my previous experience in these waters might be invaluable to you. You seem to have done a good deal on purchasing the smack from the fisherman based in northern Rivain, then getting it along the coast without being seen. So we’re good to go.”

            “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” said Enavir with a polite incline of his head.

            “Oh the pleasure is all mine,” Isabela resumed her flirtatious style.

            “Maker help us all,” muttered Fenris. “I can see this is going to be a long voyage.”

            “So what do you think of our vessel?” Enavir moved on swiftly to more practical matters.

            “Well, naturally I’ve never actually sailed in one before.   I don’t go in for fishing. It’s meant to be designed for deep water but I’d not want to risk it in bad weather. Hopefully, though, we should encounter nothing more than the odd squall at this time of year, so we should be okay. It would never outrun a square rigger, or a Qunari dreadnought for that matter, but I understand you just want to get to Seheron as swiftly as possible and are not planning on actually engaging anyone in battle, so I’m confident we shouldn’t have too many problems.”

            “Unless we run into the Tevinter navy,” said Fenris.  

            “No problem,” Enavir assured him.   “We’ve a white flag and our own standard to fly. Hopefully that should at least stop them firing on us.   After that we can find out just how much the Archon has informed the rest of the Imperium about our province.”

            “Flying by the seat of our pants as usual,” muttered Fenris; he gave a wry smile to Isabela. “You will certainly find travelling with us nothing if not interesting.”

            Lauren gave a cough to draw their attention.

            “As you can see, the last of the supplies are being loaded. So we can leave as soon as you are ready.” Then she frowned as she noticed something.   “Where’s Cillian?”

            “I’ve sent him south investigating this cult we’ve unearthed.”

            “And he agreed to that?”

            “It took a bit of persuasion but like I told him, I’ve still got you and Fenris. I thought you’d be pleased I’ve got such confidence in you.”

            “I suppose so,” she frowned. “It just seems odd him not being here.   Josmael is up in the watchtower, by the way. He wanted to see you when you arrived.”

            “I’ll leave you catching up with your old friend,” Enavir said to Fenris. “See you later, Admiral Isabela.”

            He found Josmael in sombre mood.

            “What’s up?” He said when he saw his face.

            “There have been defections over in the east.”

            “Defections?”

            Joss sighed. “I know we have a policy of saying no one is forced to stay and people are free to go whenever they wish but we did agree the Seheron natives shouldn’t have complete liberty until after you had left for the island.   We’ve done our best to keep this Seheron trip secret and yet just before you’re about to set out, I discover a party of them have slipped away and over the border without telling anyone. We probably wouldn’t have discovered it for weeks if it weren’t for the Dalish clans.   It turns out it was a good idea of ours to recommend they settle the eastern end of the forest.   They are still naturally wary of strangers and were watching for intruders from beyond our province but instead observed these others slipping away.”

            “How many?”

            “There were a dozen, all elves.”

            “Did they see which way they went?”

            “They tracked them for a short way and they appeared to be heading for the general direction of Brynlaw but then they turned north-east as though heading for the Venefication Sea. We know there are some small fishing villages in that direction along the coast but it’s not where you’d be going if you were looking for work.   So I’m thinking either there are still some hidden Qunari outposts over there or they were hoping to find a ship to take them to Kont-aar.   I’ve warned the Dalish to keep a close watch for Qunari and challenge anyone who tries to enter the forest from that direction, so that is covered until Enansal can move some Knights to bolster defences there but I’m worried about you going to Seheron.”

            “Relax, even if they are headed for Par Vollen, they won’t make it there before we make landfall on the island.”

            “It’s not that so much as the fact that no one told us about the absentees. The others from Seheron should have noticed and mentioned it.   You would think they would be worried about their safety if they had gone missing while working in the forest, so at the very least they knew that they were leaving and said nothing.  Then there are the Liberati who were overseeing them.   Everyone knows how imperative it is that everyone is accounted for, so the fact they kept quiet about it is suspicious.”

            “May be they just didn’t want to inform on them.   What do you want to do about it?”

            “I wish you’d take some of our own soldiers with you to Seheron.”

            Enavir shook his head. “They are needed here. Even more so, if not everyone of our citizens are to be trusted.   Seheron is my pet project.   I’ll not risk our loyal troops on it. I am not going there to conquer but to inspire and offer advice.   If the natives I’m returning home do turn on me, I want as few people as possible to suffer as a result.   Fenris has already warned me of the danger and Lauren refused to be left out, so that will be the sum total of people from our old team that I put at risk.”

            “What about Cillian?”

            “I’ve asked him to go to south and look for leads about a Tevinter cult we’ve unearthed. They were working with the Valisti’s and if they are connected with the Old Gods as we think, it could have very bad implications.   He asked me to give you this.”

            He handed over the scabbard with Evanura.

            “Please don’t go, Enny, we need you.”

            “No you don’t, Joss.   You managed just fine when I was with the Inquisition. It was you who kept the clan safe and dealt with the danger of the Duke.   You trained the others with the horses without any input from me.   Then it was you and Tish who organised and controlled the convoy of wagons on the trip; the whole team got our community here up and running while I was ill. I might have the big ideas but you are the ones who have made them a reality. You keep on looking after our people, just as you always have. They couldn’t be in better hands.”

            “It sounds like you don’t think you’re coming back.”

            “Not for a while, I think. This is the future for our people, a land where our children can grow up in safety and be happy.   Now it’s up to me to ensure that is still a possibility. Even without Seheron, it’s time I started giving attention to the problem of Fen’Harel and any other people who would threaten the world we live in.   However, I feel I must trust to my instincts as well as my inspiration and both are telling me that Seheron is where I need to go next. After that, who knows?”

            Josmael gave a resigned nod of acceptance; then flung his arms around Enavir and hugged him.

            “Keep safe lethallin.”

            Enavir returned the embrace.

            “I’ll do my best.”        

            He joined Fenris, Lauren and Isabela on the beach and gestured to them to join him out of earshot of the small group of Seheron natives who would be travelling with them.   They were lined up waiting for the signal to board the boats that would take them to the fishing smack.  

            “It’s only fair to warn you that there has been a breach of security here.   I’m not sure exactly how that might affect us but I thought you ought to know in advance of leaving in case you want to pull out.” He glanced at Fenris.   “It seems like you were right about betrayal.   Some of the elves from Seheron slipped away to the east and no one thought to tell us.”

            “How long ago?”

            “Not enough to make a difference to our voyage but it’s the general lack of information that is more disturbing.   I’d like to think it was just a desire not to seem like snitches and let the Qunari sympathises simply leave if they wanted to.”

            “But you have your doubts?”

            “Don’t you?”

            “Oh, definitely,” Fenris gave a wry smile. “I did warn you.   At least we can rely on our navigator captain, or should I say admiral?” He raised his eyebrows and looked to Isabela. “As for the others, with any luck none of them knows enough about navigation that they will attempt to take over the ship, so we should at least be able to make landfall before the trouble begins.”

            “Unless we encounter other ships, then they may try and attract their attention.”

            “Unlikely, because then we’d see and that would give the game away.   Still, it wouldn’t do any harm for us to take it in turns on watch, just in case.”

            “Agreed.” Fenris and Lauren both nodded their heads and then looked to Isabela.

            “I just can’t seem to avoid getting drawn into risky endeavours,” she gave a grin. “I’ll give my own men the option to bail if they want to but I don’t think they will. They wouldn’t have come this far with me if they weren’t prepared for the risk. As for me, never let it be said that Isabela threw in her hand too soon.   Deal me the next round.”

             Having received their assurance that they were happy to proceed, Enavir walked over to address the Seheron natives who had been captured in the Battle of Qarinus and had agreed to support him in this enterprise. There were twelve humans and eight elves as selected by Chroix who was their nominal leader and had been drilling them over the previous weeks.

            “As you know, the training you have been receiving has been to prepare you for the journey to take you home.   What you do when you get there is up to you.   You will appreciate I am taking a big risk in allowing this while war still wages between the Qun and Tevinter but it is an opportune time to liberate your homeland while both sides are focussed on each other.   I hope from what you have observed here that you now know there is an alternative to the Qun in trying to free yourselves from the yoke of Tevinter.   I make no apology for siding with Tevinter against the Qun last autumn but I do not support them in their occupation of your homeland.   It is my intention to help your people in their struggle for freedom if you will let me. My companions here are willing to help me in that endeavour. I hope that our trust in you will not be misplaced.” He paused to study the men in front of him, trying to gauge their mood and loyalties from the look in their eyes; then pointed to the fishing smack. “To the ship, we leave on the evening tide.”

            His last duty before boarding ship was to contact Dorian.   He knew he would have to choose his words carefully so that he did not end up outright lying to him.

            “Anything new to report at your end?” Enavir said casually.

            “Rumour is they are planning on making a big push on Asariel and Marnas Pell, not that it is really going to affect you much, although if successful that would open up the possibility for re-establishing the trade link down the Imperial Highway.   They would just need to retake Val Dorma, although they could avoid the necessity for that if they cut north from the Highway and use the port at Marnas Pell. That’s why they’re focussing their efforts there first. I should imagine that once the Qunari get wind of it, they’ll be sending reinforcements, so that may take a bit of pressure off your part of the world.”

            “Hawke will be setting off before long, so she will be able to help with the research.   She is even more concerned now about Feynriel.   If he isn’t dead, then you need to find out where he is and if he is a threat.”

            “You are a hard task master, you know that?”

            “Just making sure you don’t get bored without me.”

            “Or enjoy myself _too_ much. I’m going to need one hell of a lot of stress relief when you finally get here.”

            “I’m counting on it.”

            “No indication of when that might be?”

            “I told you, I want to surprise you.”

            “Catch me in the act, more like.”

            “Exactly,” Enavir laughed. “Speaking of which, I need to go off line for a few days, for security reasons.”

            “How long for?”

            “I’m not sure exactly but at least a week, may be even ten days.”

            “I take it you can’t tell me why?”

            “I just did.   I don’t want to risk you calling me up at an awkward moment and hostile people finding out about our means of contact.”

            “So you’re going to be potentially surrounded by enemies over the next seven to ten days, am I right?”

            “Yes, that’s pretty much the idea.”

            “And I’m not allowed to ask exactly where that is?”

            “Er, yes.”

            “Hmm, so I’m to be left hanging at this end wondering if you’re okay.   That’s not very fair, Amatus.”

            “Look, I promise I’ll call you when I can, I just can’t have you calling me.”

            “Every evening?”

            “That’s not going to be easy.”

            “You don’t have to whisper sweet nothings to me, just say the two words and I’ll know you’re still alive.

            “Fair enough but not at exactly the same time every night, just when it is safe for me to do so.”

            “Absolutely,” Dorian seemed placated. “I’d like to say I find this man of mystery thing a turn on but the fact is it will just give me more sleepless nights.   So before you go, how about you _do_ whisper sweet nothings to me, just to tide me over and I’ll return the favour in ancient Tevene.   That will leave you as frustrated as I am; not knowing what’s going on.”

            Enavir laughed.   “Your tone tends to give it away and I’m sure my imagination will do the rest but I’m up for it. Here it goes then.”

            By the time they had finished Enavir was both thoroughly aroused and regretting being so far from Dorian. He reflected that ancient Tevene was a very expressive language.

           

           

**  
**


	12. Chapter 12

           They embarked on the journey at sunset.   Isabela had agreed that moving off along the coast would best be conducted at night lest enemy agents were watching and found a way to send word to their nearest base, which would be on Qunathras.   They were planning on plotting a course that would avoid the immediate area of the Qunari stronghold while trying to maintain as straight a course as possible. This would bring them to the south side of the island with its numerous bays and beaches that would allow them to make landfall as swiftly as possible.   It would be a risky ploy as it increased the likelihood of being seen by ships from either side. However, the alternative involved a wide detour to the east of Qunathras and the off lying islands where Isabela had no experience of the waters and no charts to assist her.

            The fishing ketch was around sixty five feet long and designed to be propelled by main sail, plus a jib sail to the fore and a missan to the aft. There was a crew of five, as supplied by Isabela, who would be to be responsible for sailing the vessel.   Additional passengers would be assigned more general duties, such as washing down the deck and watching the sea for other ships.   Otherwise they were to conserve their energies for when they reached Seheron.   A makeshift tent had been erected on the deck on the foredeck to provide shelter from wind and sun as Isabela had advised that the hold stank of fish so it was advisable to spend as little time below deck as possible.   There was a smaller storage and cooking area to the aft.

            The early part of the journey was uneventful.   The coast here was steeply shelving, so they could keep close to shore for ease of navigation, the weather was balmy and the sea as smooth as glass.   Enavir found the steady wash of the waves against the hull and the gentle billow of the wind in the sails had a soothing, hypnotic effect and it was all he could do to stay awake when he was on watch.   By morning Isabela had changed their course and they were heading away from the coast into open water. She judged that with continued fine weather and no deviations from her planned course, they should reach the south eastern coast of Seheron in around four days.   Then it would just be a case of deciding on the most suitable place to land.

            During the course of the morning Enavir took the opportunity to speak to Isabela a bit more as he liked to know the people he was working with. He joined her on the bridge, where she continued to plot their course.

            “Is there a family name to go with Isabela?”

            “No, Isabela is all that you need to know. I have no ties or relatives you need worry about if things go tits up.”

            “I’m sorry to hear that.”

            “You needn’t be. I was married once but the less said about that the better.   I’ve learned how to manage on my own.   Best way really, then there’s no one telling me what to do and I live my life the way I want to, without needing to worry about anyone but myself.”

            “I suppose it does make life simpler but I prefer things complicated.”

            “I’ll say,” she gave a brief chuckle. “A Dalish elf with a Tevinter paramour; it doesn’t get much more complicated than that.”

            “So you know about Dorian?”

            “Zevran warned me not to get my hopes up and that stoked my interest.   I’ve come across some odd pairings in my time, Hawke and Fenris spring to mind, but your one certainly takes the prize. Still I suppose he must be different from the majority of Magisters considering Fenris speaks well of you both.   I met the good and the bad the last time I was up here.”

            “When was that?”

            “Around six years ago, just before Varric was waylaid by that Seeker and hauled off to meet the Divine.   That would have been when he met you of course.   Well, before that he and I were engaged on a quest with King Alistair no less. Met all sorts of delightful people; I’m joking of course, the only tolerable one was Maevaris Tilani.   Have you met her?”

            “Not socially. She’s more Dorian’s collaborator in his Lucerni group than a friend from my point of view.   We keep in touch because of a mutual interest in combating corruption in the Magisterium but there are certain issues we don’t see eye to eye on.”

            “Let me guess, the subject of slavery.” Isabela took on an exaggerated pose, one hand on hip and the other gesturing dismissively, her tone superior as she imitated Maevaris’ husky voice. “Everyone has slaves in Tevinter, darling.”

            Enavir grinned at the accuracy of her parody.

            “Not any more.   Dorian freed all his.”

            “With a little bit of coercion in the bedroom, I imagine.” Isabela gave a smirk.

            “It wasn’t like that.”

            “If you say so, _darling,_ ” Isabela mimicked Maevaris again.

            They both laughed.

            “So what were you doing up here? Dorian thought Maevaris had been involved in something but had been a bit cagey about revealing the details.”

            “That’s hardly surprising considering we got mixed up with the Qunari in the course of events.   Alistair was looking for his father because apparently he’d heard a rumour he wasn’t dead.   The trail led up here.   Magister Aurelian Titus was up to no good, trying to take over Thedas by nefarious means; lots of blood magic, the usual story. Maric was needed for his plot, Maevaris had been kidnapped by him and the Qunari offered to help put him down.   That last part is why Maevaris is keeping quiet about it.   The man was a slime ball and both the Black Divine and the Archon were probably glad to see the back of him but working with the enemy to remove a Magister would be just the sort of opening her enemies would be looking for.”

            “That’s true.   I’m surprised you wanted to risk another encounter with the Qunari.”

            “Let’s just say I like to live dangerously, as do you from what I’ve heard.   Taking on the Crows is no mean feat.”

            “Not the entire organisation it would seem, just the Valisti family.”

            “Valisti, huh? I killed Claudio Valisti back then.   He was working with Titus.”

            “Was there blood magic involved?”

            “That’s hardly a long shot guess given the Tevinter connection but why do you ask?”

            “It would seem that the Valisti family didn’t end their ties with Tevinter on the death of Claudio and they still seem to have the backing of some rogue cult of blood mages.”

            “Yes the Valistis do seem to have been up to their necks in it with Tevinter. I helped King Alistair bring in another one of them back in the summer who was running a slaving operation.   There was talk of some magister being involved then too, directing the operation further south, so a cult wouldn’t surprise me.

            “These cults are a bit like roaches really; you hit ‘em but they just keep coming back for more. Do you recall if they were wearing one of these amulets?”

            He removed the sample he kept in his pouch and showed it to her.   Isabela frowned as she studied it and shook her head.

            “I didn’t see the mages in the summer and I don’t recall the ones up here having anything like that but they were a dragon cult. Something about Maric’s blood was needed to fuel his machine and the link was dragons.  The Arishok claimed that Calenhad was aided in his rise to power by a witch who showed him a cave with a dying dragon. He drank its blood and it gave him the power to become king. This power remained in the blood of his descendants.”

            “But that is all that Reavers do to acquire their battle prowess.   I’d never heard that it was something that could be passed on before.”

            “I think it was meant to be a great dragon, which have all died out but for one in the Antivan swamps that was being protected there by a Witch of the Wilds.”

            “Flemeth?”

            “No, her daughter, Yavana, apparently, and she said that the bloodline was also capable of waking the sleeping dragons, so there must have been something different about it.   Flemeth aided Maric in getting his kingdom back and got his promise to aid Yavana in return.   Alistair didn’t feel inclined to honour that agreement and killed her instead.”

            “Are you sure about that?   People with ancient blood and links to dragons seem not to stay dead permanently.”

            “I can only report what I saw.   She said that humans were very short sighted in killing dragons as they are the blood of the world.”

            “Well I understood that was true of the Titans.”

            “Titans?”

            “Gigantic sentient beings deep beneath the earth that may well be the origin of dwarven beliefs about the Stone.   It would seem that lyrium originated with them and is their blood.   The Chantry teach that lyrium is the essence of creation as well as magic and whilst I don’t give much credit to their dogma, I’d say it is true in the sense that Titans are very ancient and who knows how connected with the formation of the earth.”

            “Where did you learn all this?”

            “Down south when we were asked to find out the source of earthquakes near Orzammar.   There is some connection between the ancient elves and the Titans.   I think they may have once fought a war against them and in at least one case they were victorious.   This was probably what allowed the Evanuris, the leaders of the elves, to obtain a godlike power, which is why they came to be seen as deities.   The Evanuris seemed to have tame dragons or could take the form of dragons and Flemeth is also the host of Mythal, one of the gods to my people, so I think Yavana may be biased in her view of the importance of dragons.   At least I hope so as I killed rather a lot of them when I was with the Inquisition.”

            “Great Dragons?”

            “Not so far as I was aware, just normal high dragons.”

            “You’re probably good then; the Arishok maintained that high dragons are nothing compared with great dragons.”

            “Well that’s a cheery thought.   Let’s hope they stay asleep then.”

            Isabela gave him an appraising look.

            “Now I’d like to ask _you_ a question.   What motivates you to do all this?”

            “It’s the right thing to do.”

            “That’s a trite sort of answer. How do you decide what is right?”

            “How do you?   Okay, put it another way, why are you helping?”

            “Oh, if you ask Fenris he’ll probably say that Isabela is a selfish bitch, thinking of nothing but the reward and he’d probably be right.”

            “But…?”

            “You remind me of Hawke in a way.   I started off working with her just to help myself and then something changed in me and I started to believe in the things that she did, like standing up for the mages.   Are you really trying to win these people their freedom?”

            “You doubt me?”

            She sighed heavily. “It’s just you’ve got no need to do this.   You’ve got an estate and title in Kirkwall, you managed to secure a homeland for your people. Why keep going when you could start enjoying it?”

            “That would be somewhat hard when half of Thedas is at war with the Qun and that is still a threat to my people.   Still I did once suggest as much to Dorian.   I wasn’t entirely joking, although I was under a lot of stress at the time.   He said that we wouldn’t be happy knowing there was something going on that we could help with but were just ignoring it. It wouldn’t be me to stop with the job only half done.   There is so much wrong with the world and the reason for that are people thinking it wasn’t their responsibility to do anything about it.   It’s not the idea that I’m the only one who can solve things but I’m one of the few that is prepared to try.   I guess that’s it really.”

            Isabela looked pensive for a moment and then gave a broad grin.

            “Seems it really is another case of what have I got myself into?”

            “You know, I’ve a feeling that you’re not as selfish as you claim you are.   Go on, admit it, there’s a good heart in there really.   Merrill thinks so.”

            Isabela gave reflective smile. “I was forgetting you know Merrill.   Fenris tells me you made her some sort of chief lore keeper of your community.”

            “Actually that was Cillian’s idea but I certainly wasn’t against it.   Merrill seemed the right person for the job.”

            “In that case, I think you’ve finally answered my question; you _are_ one of the good guys.   Damned annoying that I’m not your type, that’s all I can say.”

            Enavir laughed.   “Even if you were, you’d have to join the queue. I thought Lauren had made that clear.”

            “Oh, indeed, but is jealousy the only reason for her attitude?”

            “Don’t take it personally. She’s suffered a lot of hurt in her life and finds it difficult to trust anyone other than me and my immediate friends, so she is highly suspicious of anyone new.   I take it there isn’t any other reason she should be wary?”

            “Not where I’m concerned.”

            He saw Lauren emerging from checking their supplies below deck and waved her over.

            “Good, then I suggest it’s time you were friends rather than rivals for my affections.”

            As Lauren joined them her face was beaming.

            “The sea is amazing.   I’ve never seen or experienced anything like it.”

            “Not feeling sick then?” Enavir asked, remembering Dorian’s problems.

            “Why would I feel sick?   I’m not ill.”

            “Some people do when they are new to it.”

            “Not me.”   She turned her attention to Isabela, wide-eyed, her previous antagonism apparently forgotten. “Do you really have a ship of your own?”

            “That’s right.”

            “And live on it all the time?”

            “Well, when I’m in port I’ve been known to hang out in the odd bar or two but otherwise, yes.”

            “Lucky you, it must be wonderful.   The air is so clean and the sea is so blue.”

            Isabela chuckled. “Believe me, it’s not always as pleasant as this, but you’re right, there’s nothing quite like the feel of the sea wind when your ship is running true.”

            Lauren leaned on the rail and stared out over the wide expanse of the ocean.

            “It’s like when I’m on the back of a horse, galloping across the plains. It’s just exhilarating and you feel so absolutely carefree and alive.”

            Isabela smiled.   “A girl after my own heart; it’s better on a square rigger though. There is nothing to match a ship under full sail.   You should come and see the Siren’s Call when we get back to the mainland.”

            “I’d like that.”

            Enavir smiled.   It seemed like Isabela and Lauren were going to get on just fine.

******

            The rest of the day passed without incident.   Fenris paced the desk uneasily, clearly not enjoying the view as much as Lauren.   Enavir suspected that he disliked being somewhere so confined as a ship in the middle of the ocean, where the options for escape were limited if events turned bad.   If he was honest about it, he didn’t appreciate the restrictions either.   That had always been his objection to sea voyages, unlike Dorian who inevitably felt too ill to worry either way.

            The rest of the passengers seemed to be bearing up well and the general mood was optimistic.   Normally Enavir would take that as an entirely good sign but always at the back of his mind was Fenris’ warning of treachery and the information from Josmael.   Were these men merely happy to be returning home or looking forward to the moment they could betray him to the Qunari and earn back their favour?   He particularly hated thinking that way about Chroix after all they had been through together but in the back of his mind was a niggling disquiet about the history Chroix had given for himself after Perivantium.

            He was a native of Seheron and claimed he had been in Perivantium for fifteen years, having been sent there after killing a Magister but Enavir still doubted that a slave would have been spared for such a crime, even by a political rival.   Fifteen years ago was a time when the Qunari had been placing many agents across Thedas, gathering information and infiltrating communities in anticipation of the day when the Qun would attempt to conquer once more.   The chief agents in Perivantium had allegedly been slain by the leader of the slave rebellion there but what if Chroix had merely been a better survivor than the others?   As the other slaves had said, Chroix was a tough bastard to have survived all those years in Perivantium but a Qunari agent would have had the commitment and patience to maintain his cover and stay alive for that period of time.  

            Then, having declared he had no reason to care about anyone but himself, he had made of point of asking Enavir to spare the prisoners from Seheron.   Had Enavir really inspired a change in attitude in the former slave or was it just a clever piece of manipulation on his part?   Enavir shook his head in denial of the thought and gave a shudder. Wasn’t that cynical view of others exactly the sentiments of the Dread Wolf?   He must keep on believing in the possibility of redemption in others, just as he believed in the possibility of lasting reform in society.   Otherwise he would be starting down the path that led to his previous breakdown when he despaired of the future leading to anything but corruption and death.  

            He noticed Chroix leave the shelter of the tent and make his way along the deck to the prow of the ship and sauntered in the same direction, joining Chroix to look out over the expanse of ocean stretching to the horizon.

            “Looking forward to going home?” Enavir said in casual fashion.

            “I imagine I’ll hardly know it after all this time.”

            “From what I’ve heard it hasn’t changed much and what about relatives?”

            “I lost touch years ago, even before I was enslaved.” He turned to Enavir, caught his eye and gave a penetrating look. “Just how much do you know about Seheron?”

            “Only what Fenris has told me and the tales from a companion when I was Inquisitor, a former Ben-Hassrath turned Tal’Vashoth.   It didn’t sound good whichever side you were on and worst of all for the ordinary natives.”

            “Hmm, that was certainly true a few years back.   You know the majority of prisoners were surprisingly reluctant to be a part of this venture.   You’d think they’d be eager to get back home.”

            “May be they were afraid they’ll just be sent back into battle with Tevinter again or perhaps they were worried about being re-educated by the Ben-Hassrath.”

            Chroix shook his head with a wry smile.

            “No, they baulked when they heard you were planning on heading into the jungle.”

            “Well, I imagine that the Fog Warriors wouldn’t be sympathetic to Qunari sympathises.”

            “They wouldn’t mind so much if it was simply the Fog Warriors of old. After all, how would they know unless you told them?   Something has changed though in the last few years.   Nothing seems to get past them.   They _know_ who are the genuine collaborators no matter how deep their cover.   Very often their own family didn’t know until they wound up dead.”

            “May be they just have very good agents.”

            Chroix raised a sceptical eyebrow.

            “No spies could be that good.   It is uncanny how they know where their enemies are going to be and when. They know exactly which convoys to hit and when to stop food supplies from getting to Seheron city from the coastal farms.   Orders to and from Par Vollen and with the interior were intercepted without the culprit ever being caught. The Qun tried repeatedly to set a trap for the rebels but each time they avoided it.   When they tried tracking them back to the jungle, it was like they had disappeared into thin air, only for them to reappear behind the scouting party and taking them unawares. Then they’d hear of a party on the other side of the island being attacked at the same time they were by someone answering the same description. What do you think to that?”

            “Are they sure it was Fog Warriors?   It sounds more like some sort of magic is involved and that would mean Tevinter.”

            “Nah,” Chroix spat. “The Vints on Seheron aren’t that subtle. All they do is sabotage and assassination and they don’t care who gets caught in the crossfire.   This is carefully directed so that the ordinary people aren’t harmed but is still very effective at damaging the Qun’s hold on the island. They’ve done their best to cover it up but word gets around. Besides, from what the lads say, there was a major push against the Tevinter presence around six years ago.   Some big shot Magister was killed and the Vints driven back to the Alam peninsular. The Qun have had them pinned down there ever since.”

            “Ah that would likely be the last time Isabela was up here.   She was involved in getting rid of a Magister who was heavily into blood magic and she mentioned that it involved working with the Qun.   I believe she even met the Arishok.”

            Chroix’s eyes widened at little in astonishment.

            “That’s impressive.   I had no idea she had such connections.”

            “I don’t think it was by choice. It’s all in the past now anyway, although we have our suspicions that his cult may not have entirely died with him on the mainland.   Perhaps it was the same over here.”

            “I doubt it. Remember these lads were working with the Qun and they say their bosses didn’t think Tevinter was involved. Things had been remarkably quiet for a couple of years and then the Fog Warriors started their latest campaign.   The only clue anyone had about the reason for their success was a name that started circulating around the camp fires, the Fog Phantom.”

            “A spirit is aiding them?”

            Chroix shrugged. “Who can say? It’s as elusive as a spirit and as dangerous.”

            “And this is why people were so reluctant to join this party?”

            “That’s right.   Call it superstitious nonsense if you will but they are starting to recall the old legends of our people, about how Nahar gave them the fog as his curse against the foreign occupation of the island and the promise that will one day take it back.   They wonder if that time has come and are not sure how Nahar will view you.”

            “And you aren’t worried?”

            “I’ll take my chances; so will the other lads that agreed to come.   Just be warned; the Qun may be the least of your worries when you get there and the Fog Phantom may not look favourably on you, particularly considering your paramour.”

            “Fair enough, I’ll keep that in mind.”

            He left Chroix and sought out Fenris who was relaxing in the rear of the vessel.

            “Ever heard of the Fog Phantom?”

            “Oh, so you’ve been filled in on the rumours too,” Fenris said with sigh.

            “You don’t seem unduly worried.   I thought you’d be more worked up.”

            “I’m not rattled by bogey men in the woods.   It sounds more like some form of blood magic to me and that means a real mage.   I can deal with that.”

            “I thought the same.   Chroix is convinced it isn’t a Vint, though, and I’m inclined to agree.   The sort of elusive behaviour attributed to the Phantom and his group of Fog Warriors is very similar to the stories that circulated about Briala.   We know now that her ability to be half a step ahead of her enemies was down to the eluvians.   Then she lost control of them to someone else.”

            “Fen’Harel,” Fenris said darkly.

            “Exactly,” agreed Enavir. “According to Chroix, these things first started happening a couple of years after the defeat of Magister Aurelian Titus.   That was around 9:40.   We defeated Corypheus at the end of 9:42.   That’s when Solas disappeared and we heard nothing more from him until 9:44 when he foiled the plot by the Qun to take over southern Thedas.   He hates the Qun, so it wouldn’t surprise me if either he, or more likely one of his agents, started using the eluvians to aid the Fog Warriors against them.”

            “Assuming there are eluvians on Seheron.”

            “The old tales talk of the great heroes of Seheron learning at the feet of the elves, so there must have been some sort of connection between ancient Seheron and our ancestors. There might even be some ancient secret buried here that is needed for his plans.”

            “That’s what we thought about Arlathan Forest and it came to nothing.”

            “Not entirely.   There are eluvians there and that somniari could have been dangerous.   Even if there is no connection with Solas, it could be the same here.   I sought guidance as to where I should go in the cause of freedom but I’ve no idea what the nature of that liberation might be.   Still if we’re dealing with a spirt or ancient mage rather than the Qun, I’m starting to regret sending Cillian to Ferelden.”

            “I’m not,” said Fenris emphatically. “We can deal with this well enough without the aid of magic.”

            Enavir grinned and nodded.   “Whatever you say, Fenris.”

            The rest of the day passed uneventfully, the wind was in their favour and the ship sliced through the water at considerable speed.   Enavir was starting to appreciate the skills of Isabela and her crew as he watched them making fine adjustments to the set of the sails that would optimise the effect of the wind upon them in response to Isabela’s navigation.   There was no sign of any other boat; the ocean stretched away in a seemingly endless expanse of blue.   The second day was much the same.

            The following day Enavir was aware of a rise in the temperature of the air surrounding them, the breeze against them as a result of their passage had less of a chill to it than it had the day before.   The strength of the wind in the sails also gradually reduced, slowing their progress and allowing less movement in the air actually on the vessel. This had the unfortunate consequence that they were more aware of the stench emanating from the hold.   Whenever he passed near the hatch, the smell of fish was overpowering. Everyone stayed clear of it.   Towards the end of the afternoon one of their spotters indicated a faint image on the horizon to starboard that would suggest a landmass.

            “That will be Qunathras,” said Isabela. “I’m glad that we are running parallel to it, which indicates my navigation skills aren’t totally off, but I’d have preferred not seeing it at all.” She signalled to her crew. “We need to alter course, west sou’west.”

            Once again the crew responded with effortless efficiency and the ship began to bank to port.

            “With luck and a favouring wind, we should sight Seheron itself by morning.   Then it will be a case of tacking along the coast until we find a suitable landing point.   Much of the southern coast is sheer, with steep cliffs right down to the sea, but there may be the odd cove we can utilise to at least disembark.   That’s the advantage of this vessel; it can operate in shallower water than most ocean going ships. Then it will be up to you to find a way up the cliffs and inland.”  

            As the sun came up on their fourth day at sea, the mists lifted to reveal the rugged coast of the mainland to starboard whilst a smaller island lay to port, flocks of seabirds circling above it.  

            “As you can see, it also has sheer cliffs so is uninhabited by anything that can’t fly,” said Isabela, “which is to our advantage as at least we won’t be seen from that direction.   I’m not so sure about the north though.”

            She raised an eyeglass to her eye and surveyed the coastline through it.

            “Too much foliage that could provide cover for anyone at ground level but at least there are no Qunari structures above the tree line.   That’s something. If we can get closer to the shore on that side, the cliffs will shield us from prying eyes.   Hoy, Remi, what’s the depth like on your side?”

            Remi was leaning over on the starboard bow, dangling a weighted line into the water.

            “Still good at present,” he called back. “Seems like a deep channel straight down.”

            “Great, let me know if that changes.” She signalled to the other crew members manning the sails. “Drop the mainsail, we’ll let the current take us from here.”

             The progress of the vessel slowed as Isabela brought the ship in closer to the cliffs and then set it on a parallel course in a rough north-westerly direction.   The temperature started to rise as they were protected from early morning breezes off the land.   Then, as the sun reach its zenith, allowing it to clear the shadow thrown by the cliffs, the shoreline started to reduce in height and Remi warned the depth was correspondingly altering at sea. They raised the mainsail once more and put out to deeper water, tacking in more westerly direction.   Isabela indicated the position she thought they had reached on their map.

            “We’re around fifty miles south west of Seheron City and I’m guessing that any inlets along this stretch are going to be inhabited.   So we’ll give them a miss and head further west.   That should bring us to about here by evening, far enough along that even if they’ve seen us, they won’t have been able to keep pace with us along the coast.   If we can find somewhere for you to disembark overnight, you could be clear of the coast and into the jungle by morning. After that, good luck with anyone finding you.”

            “Sounds like a good plan to me. What do you think, Fenris?”

            “It’s good enough provided we can find a place to put in where there is a reasonable chance of climbing out.”

            The rest of the day was spent taking it in turns to survey the shore with Isabela’s eyeglass.   As the sun dropped behind the island, Fenris spied a likely looking cove.   There was at least the semblance of a sandy beach and the cliff was covered with vegetation, suggesting it wasn’t totally sheer and would have enough purchase to allow foothold.   It was decided to put in closer to shore and use their small skiff to make a better examination of its potential.   Enavir, Fenris, Lauren and Chroix made up the initial landing party.

            On reaching the beach, they discovered it not to be as remote from habitation as they had initially hoped.   There were signs of previous use, although not recent, and a well-worn path up into the trees.   However, scouting to the top of this revealed no immediate danger and Enavir decided to chance disembarking here while they could, rather than putting back out to sea in the hope of something better and risking discovery.  

            Lauren went back with Chroix to inform Isabela of their findings and shortly after Isabela joined them on shore as the rest of the party and their supplies were ferried off the ship.

            “What would you like us to do while you’re gone?” she asked.

            “It’s entirely up to you,” said Enavir.   “You’ve done as we asked and got us to Seheron.   I won’t hold you to any more than that.   I certainly don’t intend coming back this way.   What about you, Fenris?”

            “I go where you go, you know that.   I’m not expecting this to be a fleeting visit and I won’t leave with the job half done, so you’ll have a long wait if you stick around for us.”

            “Then we’ll head back to Elrevasan before the Qunari get wind of us,” Isabela said with a grin.   “Collect my reward after a job well done for once.”

            The words were no sooner out of her mouth then an enormous vessel sailed into view around the spit that sheltered their small bay.     It looked as though it had merely been on routine patrol as it was a fair way out to sea but it was clear that it wasn’t going to ignore their presence as it changed its course and headed towards them.

            “Shit!” Isabela said with feeling. “It’s a fucking dreadnought; seems like I’ll be coming with you after all.”

            “Get up to the jungle as quick as you can,” yelled Enavir.  

            Those still on the fishing vessel had realised the danger they were in and had decided not to wait for the skiff to return for them.   Throwing whatever of the supplies that would float overboard, they had jumped into the sea and were half swimming, half wading to shore with whatever they could manage to salvage.    

            The dreadnought had come to a halt, still some way out to sea, clearly not wanting to risk becoming grounded in the shallows.   That gave them some breathing space, while the Qunari decided on their next move. Shortly after that, a whistling sound indicated something flying through the air, followed by an explosion as it made a direct hit on their fishing ketch.   As the air cleared of the dust and the debris settled into the water, it was clear that little remained of it but matchwood.   Enavir gave a sigh of relief that they had chosen to disembark when they did as they would have stood no chance against it at sea.

            “Oh well, at least it wasn’t my ship this time,” sighed Isabela.   “Are you all right lads?" She called to her crew as they reached the beach.

            “Could’ve done with a bit more warning,” responded Remi, “but we’ve weathered worse than this.”

            “They aren’t putting down boats,” said Fenris as he studied the dreadnought with the eyeglass.   “It must be just a patrol vessel.   They’ll have to get word back to shore if they are going to track us, so that will give us a start on them.”

            As he said this, a flare went up from the ship.  

            “That would appear to be their signal, so their shore party can’t be that far away.”

            “Best get started then,” said Enavir.

 

 


	13. Chapter 13

           Despite the setback with the dreadnought, Enavir was still feeling confident in himself. Against the odds they had managed to cross the Boeric Ocean and Ventosus Straits in a time of war and had made it safely to shore with everyone, including Isabela’s crew, in good shape.   Confined on the ship he had felt ill at ease but now he was back in his element.   The vegetation might be different to what he was used to but the skills needed to track their way into the interior, whilst avoiding hostile forces, remained the same he had employed a thousand times before, both with his clan and the Inquisition.   Once the party had split their supplies among them and ensured they were adequately clothes and armed, he led them swiftly away from the coast.

            Although the night was clear and a full moon was overhead, as they proceeded further beneath the jungle canopy, even the moonlight could not penetrate and it was hard seeing ahead through the gloom.   He did not want to risk torches giving their location away, so to ensure they party stayed together, he ordered them to go single file and had a rope strung between them.   That way if someone stumbled and fell, they would immediately be alerted and could halt to allow them to recover.   It also had the added advantage that no one could hang back to mark their trail for pursuers to follow, although he didn’t mention that to anyone else.  

            He kept them moving relentlessly throughout the night, only allowing them to rest for brief intervals before resuming their trek.   By the time they could see the light of a new day through gaps in the canopy, he decided they were far enough ahead of pursuit that he could allow a longer stop to eat breakfast.   On reaching a small clearing in the trees, he called a halt.   The party broke off into small groups. Enavir and Fenris sat themselves on a log, a little apart from the rest.

            “Any idea where we are?” he asked Fenris as they ate.

            “Not a clue.   When I was here before, it was over in the west where the Tevinter are most active and had some semblance of control.   Even so, the Qunari were able to spring a surprise attack on our enclave and Denarius had to make a hurried departure by boat with the other important figures.   There wasn’t room enough for me, much to his horror, and I was left stranded on the shore among the enemy.   That’s how I escaped him the first time.”

            “Oh, I hadn’t realised it happened more than once.”

            “It was how I came to meet the Fog Warriors and Denarius is the reason I’m not with them still.”   He paused and looked down. “It is something I’m not proud of.”

            “Then don’t feel you have to tell me.”

            “No, I think it only fair that you know.   Someone betrayed us to him. It’s amazing what gold will do.   When he arrived at our camp, he thanked them for preserving me and then demanded they hand me over to him.   Naturally they refused and attacked him instead.   That’s when he ordered me to kill them and I did.   I fought and killed the very people who had helped me, for him.   I still don’t understand why I didn’t resist.”

             “Blood magic, perhaps?”

            “I don’t know, may be.   Then again, I think I was just so conditioned to obey him.   He was knocked out in the battle and it was only then, after my friends were dead, that I realised what I had done, what he had made me do.   It’s ironic really but it was their deaths that finally freed me from his control.   I left him there in the jungle and started running.   I thought I would never stop running, until I met Hawke.   Then my whole life changed.”

            “So that’s why you wanted to come back?”

            Fenris nodded.   “I owe it to them.   If you are going to try to free their people from the Qun and Tevinter, then I should be part of that effort.”

            “It’s a good reason to be here.   Thank you for telling me.”

            A brightly coloured bird, with feathers of yellow and blue and a red crest, flapped past them and landed on a low branch near where Lauren sat.   She looked in the direction of the sound and gave a gasp of delight.

            “Look, it’s so beautiful.   Whatever is that?”

            “I think the locals call them macaws,” said Fenris.

            “One of my former crew used to have a bird like that as a pet,” said Isabela.   “Do you remember, Remi?”

            “Yeh, I remember,” laughed Remi.   “He cried like a baby when I shot it.”

            “Whatever did you do that for?” Lauren frowned.

            “It insulted my mother,” Remi shrugged.

            “How did it do that?” Lauren asked wide-eyed in disbelief.

            “They’re good at mimicking you.   He must have been constantly insulting me behind my back and the bird picked up on it.   Served him right really.”

            Lauren stood up and approached where the bird sat.   It cocked its head on one side and appraised her, without showing any sense of fear. She reached out her hand towards the bird and addressed it.

            “Hello, there, aren’t you pretty.”

            To everyone’s surprise the bird fluttered forward and landed on her outstretched arm.   Lauren flinched slightly as its claws dug in to gain a purchase.   The bird responded by hopping up onto her shoulder where her Dalish armour had leather pads that gave a better grip and protected her.

            “Seems like you’ve made a friend,” remarked Isabela. “It’s good to know not all the natives are hostile towards us.”

            “Is all the wildlife this friendly?” queried Enavir.   He stood up and walked over to where the bird sat in relaxed fashion on Lauren’s shoulder.

            “Not really,” Chroix called across to them. “Those birds are said to be really intelligent, so I guess it was curious about finding you out here and sensed Lauren could be trusted.   I wouldn’t take such liberties with the majority of beasts we’ll encounter.   Most of them are deadly in one way or another, isn’t that so, Fenris?”

            “That’s true.   There are big jungle cats with teeth and claws like razors, there are snakes that can crush the life out of you and huge poisonous spiders that spit venom.”

            “That sounds like it has a nice familiarity to it,” said Enavir. “I’ve been everywhere from the snows of the Frostback Basin to the deserts of the Hissing Wastes and there hasn’t been a single place where I haven’t been assaulted by venomous spiders, big and small.”

            “What about the Deep Roads?” suggested Isabela.

            “Not spiders but plenty of Deepstalkers in my experience and all only too eager to kill me.”   He stared at the macaw. “You just ain’t normal mate.”

            “Tark,” croaked the bird and fixed him with its beady eye.

            “Well, I think you’re just lovely,” cooed Lauren as she glanced sideways at it and gently stroked the feathers of its chest.   “I think I’ll call you Freddie, Freddie MacFeathers.”

            The macaw raised its crest in response and bobbed its head. “Tark.”

            “It seems like it approves,” said Enavir dryly. “Don’t get too fond of it; I dare say it’ll fly off again once we leave.   Speaking of which, I think we should be going.”

            The bird didn’t leave them but flapped up into the trees and then from branch to branch, following their progress. This took them up the side of a hill. As the ground became steeper, the trees thinned out somewhat; although this allowed the undergrowth to be more profuse, slowing their progress as they had to hack their way through it.   The air around them was clammy, which transferred to their clothes and skin, and the heat was almost suffocating in its stuffiness.

            Around midday they breasted the summit and halted on a rocky outcrop, though still surrounded by trees, and took a break for lunch. Enavir felt the need to get his bearings in order to decide on their direction in the afternoon.   He selected what looked to be the tallest tree in the immediate neighbourhood and climbed up to as near the top as his weight would allow.                           From here he could see over the canopy.   Looking to the south he could see the sea, some miles away, glistening in the sun but everywhere else was an endless expanse of green.  It was noticeable that the sky was filling with clouds and the sun becoming obscured.   Before it completely disappeared he established which direction was north and thus which direction they should take in the afternoon.   So far as he could tell, the hill they were on was part of a chain that ran roughly north-west in the direction of a higher plateau that was currently obscured by mist.

            He returned to the ground regretting the secrecy that had kept him from confiding in Dorian, as he guessed that Tevinter was probably the only source of detailed maps of Seheron outside of Par Vollen.   The map he was using was a nautical one, so only really showed the coast and even there it had been sparse on detail.   Then again, from what he had been told, much of the interior of Seheron was said to be wild and uncultivated, so perhaps it had never been mapped properly.   In the absence of any better guidance, he decided it would be advisable to stick to the high ground and follow the ridge for the present.  

            The party set off once more along the line of hills.   The rocky nature of the summit meant that there were less trees and dense undergrowth than in the valleys below but that meant there was also less protection when it started to rain.   The downpour was intense but short lived.   Even so, by the end of it they were drenched and since the cloud cover had departed, the sun beat down on them, once again making them unpleasantly hot and sticky rather than just dry.   Everyone was relieved when he finally decided to call a halt for the day and they could strip off their outer clothes and armour.

            They could not have set a fire even if he had thought it safe to do so, which meant another meal of trail rations.   Enavir realised though that they would soon have to start living off the land in order to preserve their supplies.   There had originally been enough for two weeks but they had lost some in their hasty disembarkation from the ship.   He had thought a fortnight would be sufficient time for them to make contact with the rebels but now he was actually on the island and had seen the density of the vegetation, he wasn’t so sure.   He broached the subject with Fenris.

            “What do the Fog Warriors live off out here?”

            “Meat wise they mostly hunt a sort of wild pig that is pretty common but they also cook jungle fowl and even snake.   They also eat a lot of beetle grubs and other insects.”

            “Truly?” Enavir screwed up his face in disgust.

            “Eating beetle grubs doesn’t appeal to the mighty Dalish hunter then?”

            “Not really,” Enavir gave a pained look. “However, if it means survival then I guess I’m game.”

            Fenris grinned at his discomfort.   “There is also breadfruit.   It tastes like bread too but only once it is cooked.   At present, without a fire, we’d be looking at fruit you can eat raw, like bananas, mangoes and figs.   Coconuts would be good too. You can drink coconut water by making a hole in the shell of the green fruit or use the flesh of the ripe one.”

            There came a squawk from the macaw and the sound of something crashing through the trees above their heads.   Enavir looked up and dodged just in time as a large object fell to the ground.   It was round, green and the size of a man’s head.

            Fenris stared at it. “Just like that actually.”

            “That’s a coconut?” Enavir stared suspiciously at the bird. “How in the hell did it know that?”

            “Because Freddie MacFeathers is a really clever boy, aren’t you Freddie,” said Lauren.

            She put out her arm and the bird flew onto her shoulder. Then she picked up the fruit and examined it.   Taking out her knife, she started to jab at the shell.

            “It’s a bit tough.   How would you do it Freddie?”  

            She held it up to the bird and it pecked vigorously at the object, finally succeeding in making a hole.   Lauren tipped it up and drank from it.

            “That’s delicious. Thank you.”

            “It nearly fell on my head,” Enavir pointed out.

            “He did try to warn you,” Lauren responded defensively. “The way you talk, you’d think he’d done it deliberately. Why would he want to hurt you?”

            “Why indeed.” Enavir shook himself. “What am I talking about?   He’s just a bird.”

            “There’s a good bunch of coconuts up there,” said Fenris, starring up into the tree. “Deliberate or not, he’s made a useful find for us.   If we get these down, we can take them with us tomorrow.”

            “So are you going to apologise?” Lauren gave him a challenging look.

            “You want me to apologise to a bird?”

            “Why not, you did accuse him of trying to kill you after all?”

            “But a bird?”

            Lauren crossed her arms and looked threateningly at him.

            “If I insulted one of your friends you’d expect me to apologise.”

            “Okay, I surrender.” Enavir raised his hands in submission and addressed the macaw. “Freddie MacFeathers, I am sorry I made false accusations against you.   Your help is much appreciated.”   He raised his eyebrows at Lauren. “Satisfied?”

            “Absolutely,” she grinned back. “Come on, Freddie, let’s find something for you to drink from.”

            As she sauntered off across their camp, with the macaw on her shoulder, Enavir could have sworn the bird looked back at him and winked.

            “Am I glad Dorian isn’t here,” he muttered, “I’d never live it down.”

            “Who’s to say I won’t tell him?” Fenris grinned.   “I’m sure Cillian would find it amusing too and Hawke.”

            “I can go off people you know.”

            “Relax. I’ve played Wicked Grace with a mabari.   After that, apologising to a bird seems quite normal.

*****

            The following day they continued their progress along the ridge.   On the whole the party seemed to be bearing up well.   The sailors among them were as ill at ease in the jungle as he had been at sea but Isabela assured him that they were willing to trust to his guidance.   The natives seemed to have split into two groups, broadly on race lines.   The elves among them were remarkably cheerful given their situation but with the humans he noticed some muttering and pensive looks between them when they stopped for lunch. Chroix assured him it was just local legends getting the better of them.

            “That plateau we appear to be heading towards is called the Seat of Nahar.   Not surprisingly they are worried at what we might find there.”

            “To be honest, I’m more worried about what might be behind us than ahead.   We’ve left a trail that even a Dalish child could follow.   If Qunari trackers are even moderately good at their job, they should have been able to pick it up by now.”

            Chroix gave a wry smile. “You forget these people’s experience of the Qunari is largely positive.   If they catch up with us, then it is more of a problem for you than them.   The Fog Phantom, though, is an entirely different matter.   I think they are beginning to get cold feet about your enterprise now that approaching its likely lair is becoming a reality.   Don’t worry; I’ll keep them on side.”

            After lunch their journey took them back into dense jungle once more, always steadily climbing as they hacked their way forward.  The rest of that day and much of the next was spent in similar fashion. Towards mid-afternoon they emerged from trees to be confronted by a sheer cliff and what appeared to be a major landslide.   A large amount of debris, consisting of earth, rocks and broken trees, was piled on either side of the path and directly in front of it, where it ended about half way up the height of the cliff. Above it the cliff face was ringed with fog up to just short of the summit. So far as he could tell it would appear that path had originally wound up to the top of the plateau but the land had sheared off at the top of the cliff, leaving the exposed face like a scar on the landscape.   Clearly there would be no way forward in that direction and they would have to circle round at the base of the cliff.   He had no wish to go south as that would take them back towards the coast, so he led them around the base of the plateau in a northerly direction.                           

            Progress was difficult due to the density of the undergrowth and the slope of the ground. It was clear that previously they had benefitted from what had once been an ancient trackway along the ridge, even if it didn’t appear to have been used much recently.   Now they were breaking new ground and it slowed them down considerably.   It also started to rain again, making the ground slippery and treacherous.

            After a couple of hours he started to hear a sound gradually build in intensity over the noise of their own efforts clearing vegetation.   It started as a faint rumble, increasing in volume until it became a roar over which he had to shout to be heard.   He broke from the trees and pulled up short, the ground dropping away sharply in front of him.   The reason for this and the crescendo of noise was now apparent in the curtain of water falling down the cliff face into the chasm below.   There was no way around or across this at their level, so he had no alternative but to lead them down the hillside in the hope of finding a crossing lower down.  

            It took the rest of the day to reach the base of the slope, having still not found a suitable crossing point, but the riverbank at least had the advantage of making foraging for food easier and provided them with a suitable clearing to camp.   Enavir still would not permit a fire as the smoke would be easily visible from higher ground.   The passage through the undergrowth might have left a good trail to follow but he didn’t intend making it any easier for pursuers than that.

            The human natives seemed a good deal happier now they were headed away from the plateau.   It occurred to him that following the river would probably be the best way out of the jungle for people unfamiliar with it since the water would naturally flow towards the sea and given the lie of the land, that meant the coastlands to the north east where the majority of settlements were.   Thus it didn’t come as a surprise when Chroix approached him with a request on their behalf.

            “They want out.   It turns out they only came along in the hope of getting back to their families quicker.   If you let them go, they’ll let you have their supplies.   They can survive off the land if they stay by the river until they reach civilisation.”

            Enavir considered the request.

            “What do you think, Fenris?”

            “I’d say let them go. No point in having unwilling followers and splitting our numbers may confuse anyone following us.”

            “Fair enough,” agreed Enavir.   “If any of the natives want to go, they can. Tell them they can keep half their supplies, as a gesture of goodwill on our part.”

            Chroix nodded and went to inform them.   The following day the group travelled together until they reached a point on the river where it became both wider and shallower and there was some semblance of a river bank rather than sheer cliffs either side.   Enavir judged that this might be a suitable place to attempt a crossing to the opposite bank and so they bid the majority of the human natives and three elves farewell.   His party, now reduced to fifteen members in total, consisted of six natives, five crew members, Isabela, Chroix, Lauren and Fenris.

            Enavir used his bow to fire a line across the river to act as a guide and support. The rest of it was run through a ring attached to a tree on their side and then hooked back onto his belt, the slack being taken up by the crew in order to keep it taut.   A second short line was hooked from his belt to the main one to aid his support should he need it.    

            He started across the river. The first person across ran the greatest risk and had the hardest task with no one on the other side to assist them.   For this reason he insisted on it being him as he wouldn’t ask anyone to do something he wouldn’t do himself.

            The river was deeper than it looked in some parts, with hidden sinks to trap the unwary and a strong undertow in the centre of the river, but he only lost his footing twice and the rope helped him keep his balance and keep moving when the water came up to his waist, threatening to sweep him away. Once he was safely to the opposite bank, he fixed a ring to the tree, ran the rope through it and tied off the ends.   He detached the second rope and hook from his belt, leaving them resting on the knot to be pulled back to the other side.    The rest of the party followed on one by one, some with greater ease than others. Lauren in particular struggled against the flow with her light frame, whilst the macaw flew overhead, squawking either encouragement or anxiety, Enavir couldn’t be sure which. It took the greater part of the morning for the entire party to reach the other side of the river.

            When everyone was across he released the knot, allowing the end of the rope to travel across the river and back again, leaving just the hook on the other side. It was likely anyone following would have their own rope but he wasn’t about to make it easy for them.   Then he felt that they all deserved a bit of rest and an early lunch before moving on.

            Whilst it would have been easier keeping to the river bank as they travelled back up river, he preferred to head into the jungle to keep them concealed from sight.   Considering the amount of time it had taken to make the crossing, he could almost feel confident that they had shaken off pursuit but didn’t want to become complaisant.  

            As they worked their way through the undergrowth he became aware of the local wildlife taking an interest in their progress.   Mostly it was just in the form of eyes peering out from behind the foliage and then rapidly being withdrawn but there was at least one shadowy form of what he took to be a large jungle cat and a chattering between creatures up in the canopy.   Given what Fenris had said about the potential lethal results of encounters with some creatures of the forest, he was grateful that they shared both the curiosity of the macaw and its lack of hostility.

            It was a pleasant change from his time as Inquisitor when they had been constantly under attack from enraged wildlife, but seemed to confirm his view at the time that the Breach had caused the animals to behave uncharacteristically.   During his time out in the wilds with his clan, provided they did not disturb a mother with her young, or scarcity of game had made predators desperate enough to attack them, on the whole the wildlife was no more willing to engage them in conflict than they had been.   The biggest danger to his clan had always been from their human neighbours rather than their animal ones.

            By late afternoon they had reached the foot of the plateau once more but not yet found a suitable route for ascending to it.   As they trekked along the base it was noticeable that it was gradually turning, indicating the plateau above them was growing wider.   As the evening turned to dusk they finally located what seemed a promising looking incline, possibly even the vestiges of an actual path leading upwards, though whether the pathway had been forged by humans or animals was not clear.  

            Nevertheless, there was a sizeable clearing at the base, so it seemed like a good place to make camp, from where they could investigate more fully in the morning.     They were able to spread out far more than on previous days and this allowed the various members of the party to break off into groups.   The natives still held themselves somewhat aloof from Isabela and her crew.   Lauren, though, had now thoroughly accepted the Queen of the Eastern Seas, as Isabela liked to promote herself, and spent the evening listening wide-eyed to the legends of the sea that Isabela and her crew recounted with relish.

            Enavir was aware that the period he had decreed for Dorian maintaining silence was nearly over. Eight days had already passed and the maximum would be ten. He had thought his main problem in keeping the crystal secret would have been whilst at sea but the need to keep the party together amid the dense jungle had made it nearly as difficult on land.   Whilst their party had decreased in size, he still wouldn’t want his secret known to the majority of them.   He generally combined giving the sign with relieving himself but that had still left him too close to camp for more than the two whispered words to assure Dorian of his safety.   This time he decided he would experiment with moving a bit further away from camp to see if anyone commented on it or tried following him.   He moved out beyond the perimeter of the camp into a denser patch of undergrowth and waited.   There was no sign of anyone remarking on his actions, so he whispered into the crystal.  

            A flutter of feathers made him look up. There was the macaw fixing him with its eye once more.   He hastily shoved the crystal back inside his jerkin.   It was foolish, he knew, feeling threatened by the creature but it still made him uneasy.   Then he gave a chuckle to himself when he realised how the macaw so closely mimicked the behaviour of Lauren when he first knew her. He glanced up at the bird and winked.

            “Just between us, okay?”

            “Tark,” it responded, raised its crest and bobbed on its perch.

            “May be they are as intelligent as Mabari,” he muttered to himself.

            He returned to the camp but no one commented on his absence.   With any luck he might be able to manage a short exchange with Dorian before the end of the allotted period.   That thought sufficiently cheered him that he was able to fall asleep almost immediately.

 

 


	14. Chapter 14

            Dawn was only just breaking when he was awoken by the sound of a persistent squawking.   He started cursing the bird in his mind for disturbing him when he realised it was behaving in an uncharacteristic fashion from previous days.   Then Lauren, who presumably had also been woken by the bird, screamed.

            “Qunari!”

            Sitting up abruptly, he saw her pointing away from camp to the path at the base of the plateau, where some two dozen horned warriors were rapidly approaching, and also realised that two of Isabela’s crew, who had been assigned guard duty, were on the ground either unconscious or dead.   He registered the fact that the Qunari were still too far off to be responsible before yelling in turn.

            “Wake up, we’re under attack.”

            It was then that he noticed that all the natives from Seheron, bar Chroix, had left camp. There was no time to strap on his silverite arm, so he simply unsheathed Glandivalis as he scanned the perimeter for danger.   He never removed his magical belt that deflected blows against him, so he stood forward to attract any ranged attacks to himself in order to allow his companions a chance to ready themselves.   Fenris was soon alongside him and the others followed up shortly after.   Isabela was cursing at the loss of two of her crew but the other three were in good shape.

            A spear slammed into the ground at his feet. It had been deliberately aimed to miss, he guessed, so was intended as a warning. He wondered for a moment if they might be Tal’Vashoth but the voice of their leader soon dispelled any doubts on that score.

            “Throw down your arms, Liberator, and we will not harm you or your companions.”

            Only the Qunari could be familiar with his newly acquired title.   Whatever means they used for communication, it would seem that Josmael was right and the defectors back in Elvrevasan must have succeeded in sending a message concerning his enterprise to Seheron.

            “You need to get to the trees,” he muttered to Isabela, “You too Lauren.   I’ll cover your escape.”

            “I’m not leaving you,” insisted Lauren.

            “Neither am I,” said Fenris.

            “You heard them, it’s me they want.   Take your chance while you can.   Do it.”

            With that he strode forward, brandishing Glandivalis.

            “Let them, go,” he called back. “They are of no real concern to you.”

            “The bas kabethari may leave but not the bas saarebas.”

            “What bas saarebas?”

            “Do not pretend ignorance.   The one who always walks at your side, marked with the blood writing.   He stays.”

            “I think he means me,” said Fenris as he came up alongside.

            Enavir could hear a tinge of amusement in his tone. It did seem rather ironic considering Fenris’ feelings on the subject of magic. He was also glad that he had gone with his instincts and prevented Cillian from making the journey.   A quick glance behind showed him that Isabela was dragging a reluctant Lauren towards the cover of the jungle, the other members of his party following suit.

            “Throw down your arms,” the Qunari called once more.

            In response, Enavir raised Glandivalis above his head in challenge.

            “This is Glandivalis, the sword of the Liberator, Champion of Freedom.   I brought it here to fulfil the commission laid on Shartan, ‘Free our People.’   We are the last of the elvhen and never again will we submit.”

            “Marass shokra, Anaam esaan Qun,” called back the leader.

            “There is nothing to struggle against. Victory is in the Qun,” Fenris translated.

            “Ebasit kata itwa-ost,” Enavir called back.

            Fenris turned to him surprised. “You know Qunlat?”

            “Only that one phrase; Solas said it to the Viddasala before he turned her to stone.”

            “It is ended. You all have fallen.   Great rhetoric but they’re still standing.”

            “Not for long. Look to the plateau above.”

            Fenris returned his gaze to the slope just behind the Qunari to witness what Enavir had seen.   A mist was flowing down the sides of the plateau, growing in density and spreading with incredible speed.   A moment later the Qunari also became aware of it just before it engulfed them and they disappeared from view.

            “If I were you, I’d stop brandishing my weapon now,” Fenris suggested with a smirk. “We wouldn’t want the Fog Warriors getting the wrong idea, would we?”

            “Good call.” Enavir sheathed Glandivalis as the fog flowed towards them.

            “What is that?” This was Isabela’s voice.

            Enavir glanced back to see her stand with the others at the edge of the jungle, wide-eyed with apprehension.

            “Don’t move any of you and whatever you do, don’t attack.”

            That was as much assurance as he could give them before the fog enveloped him and continued its relentless progress.   It was silent in its passage and that made it all the more unnerving when the screams began, short and strangled sounding as though the victim had barely enough time to be aware of their impending death.   It made the hair rise on Enavir’s scalp and a chill run down his spine.   Yet it was too late to do anything but wait.

            He scarcely had enough time to be aware of the figure close on him before he felt the knife at his throat.   One swift slice and he would be dead but the bearer held it steady, their other hand resting on his shoulder and encouraging him to remain still.   No words were spoken by the Fog Warrior and Enavir could not have found his voice even if he thought speaking would have done any good.   He had no choice to remain statuesque, his heart thumping and the sweat starting to flow down his face.   Never had he felt as unnerved as he did at that moment, completely defenceless and at the mercy of a warrior he hadn’t even seen.  

            Still the screams continued, from behind him now.   He hoped it was simply a sign that the Fog Warriors had caught up with the fleeing natives who had betrayed them and were not massacring his companions but he dare not do anything more than wait and pray that no harm had come to them.   He sensed rather than saw that Fenris was still standing alongside him.   That at least was reassuring.

            Finally all was silent.   A few more heartbeats passed and then the fog began to dissipate, receding across the area they had made camp in and back up the hillside, a trail of dead bodies left in its wake.   As it flowed past the last of these, a grey robed figure was revealed standing motionless on the path.   His head was concealed by a cowl and a mask covered the lower half of his face.   Enavir guessed that this was the elusive Fog Phantom.

            A quick motion of his hand and the knife was removed from Enavir’s throat, although the warrior still remained close enough to act if necessary and Enavir judged it would still be unwise to make any sudden or threatening movements.   He glanced back carefully to see Isabela, Lauren, Chroix and the three sailors being encouraged to walk forward and join them.   All around the clearing stood Fog Warriors, their skin painted white and their clothes pale grey like the Phantom but in their case not robes so much as hardened leather armour over a short tunic, much like his own.   Their faces were not covered, so he could see the grim determination in the set of their mouths and the look of their eyes.   It was also a sentiment that he could identify with; he was sure his own face showed as much to the onlookers. He hoped that it would result in mutual respect and that his gamble in coming here would not end in an ignominious death.  

            The mysterious robed figure briefly fixed his eyes with his own, a piercing yellowish green, before moving down the path towards them.  As he passed the two crew men still lying on the ground, he crouched briefly by each in turn and laid his hand on them.   Each groaned and moved slightly, indicating that they were alive at least.   It also confirmed that the Phantom was a mage who was capable of performing healing magic.   As he continued on towards Enavir, several Fog Warriors moved across to the men, both to assist them and take them under guard.  

            The Phantom passed by Enavir and Fenris, ignoring them to continue down the line and stand in front of Chroix.   Enavir caught a glimpse of pale skin and acknowledged that the figure was taller than Fenris or himself, so unlikely to be a normal elf but that didn’t rule out an ancient elvhen.   His voice was deep in tone and when he spoke was muffled by the mask but did not sound familiar to Enavir as he addressed Chroix.  

            “So, traitor, what have you to say for yourself?”

            Chroix made no response but he matched stares with his accuser.   The Phantom nodded to the Fog Warriors either side of Chroix and they held him firm as the Phantom reached forward and placed his palm on his forehead.   Closing his eyes, he appeared to concentrate whilst his face remained impassive.   By contrast, Chroix’s breathing became heavier and more laboured, the sweat ran down his face and his eyes went wide with fear. Finally he gave a gasping cry as though wracked with pain. Abruptly the Phantom removed his hand and Chroix slumped in the arms of his captors.

            “You should have remained loyal to the Liberator,” the Phantom informed him. “There is no future in the Qun.”

            “Better the Qun than a Tevinter stooge.” Chroix turned his face towards Enavir and the latter was shocked to see the raw hatred that was directed towards him. “He’s a Magister’s fuck toy.   He’ll sell you out to them eventually.”

            “I’m sorry you feel that way,” said Enavir with genuine remorse. “I thought you knew I was better than that.”

            The Phantom held up a hand to silence him.

            “Don’t waste your breath.   He’s Ben-Hassrath through and through. He only left you free this long to be the bait to bring me.   I was to be the prize that his deception would win. Well I have come as he desired, only the trap was my own.   He deserves no mercy.” He jerked his head in a brief nod to the Fog Warriors who held Chroix. “Give him to Nahar.”

            One of the warriors grabbed his head and gave a swift twist, breaking his neck.   The Phantom moved on to Isabela.   Enavir could see that she was truly fearful of what this man could do to her, her eyes avoiding his and focussing on his hand as though this could somehow keep him from touching her.

            “Look at me.”   His tone was one of sharp command.

            Her head jerked up and her eyes met his.   Once confronted in this way, it seemed she could not look away.   Again, he signalled to his companions and they held her fast.   The hand reached out towards her.   Isabela pulled her head back away from his touch but it did her no good; he was inexorable in the progress of his hand.   As the palm touched her forehead, she stopped struggling and seemed held transfixed by his willpower.   Her breathing became rapid and shallow, quick pants that seemed to disguise an underlying whimper.

            “Stop it!” It was Lauren’s voice that screamed at him. “You’re hurting her.”

            He withdrew his hand and Isabela relaxed wearily.   Enavir feared for Lauren but as the Phantom turned his gaze towards her, Enavir thought the eyes looked far less severe and his voice was gentle as he addressed her.

            “They hurt themselves with their guilt and fear, I merely observe.”

            He returned his attention to Isabela.

            “Queen of Eastern Seas,” he mused with a touch of humour in his voice. “I think we may be able to do business with you.   Do you vouch for the conduct of your men?”

            “I do,” she replied shakily.

            “Then you need not fear us so long as you act in good faith.”

            Enavir was aware of the faint glow that was growing in Fenris as he readied himself to react if the Phantom attempted to touch him and assessed what their chances would be against these warriors if their leader was slain. He wondered if the Phantom was aware of the threat and the words to Isabela had been intended for them all. Whatever the case, the Phantom gave a brief hand signal to his followers.  

            “Come, it is time we were going.”

            With that he turned abruptly and strode back up the path towards the plateau without looking back.   The other Fog Warriors gestured to them to follow and they did as requested, noticing additional warriors gathering their equipment on their behalf.   Enavir glanced at Fenris and saw that the glowing had subsided but he still had a feral look to his face.   Whilst Enavir was now confident that the Phantom was not Solas, clearly that would not make him any less of a threat so far as Fenris was concerned.  He realised he would just have to trust that Fenris would not wish to bring them all into danger by attacking him when he had an opportunity to do so.

            The climb to the top of the plateau took most of the morning.   A short way up a secondary path joined their path from the south, leading down to the jungle below.   Around half way up the side, so far as he could tell, the path passed through a belt of fog, which continued until they were nearly at the top of the path. Once they had reached the summit, the Fog Warriors allowed them a break to rest and eat.   Whilst they were doing this, the macaw returned to them, much to Lauren’s delight and she made a considerable fuss of the bird for warning them about the Qunari.

            There was no sign of the Phantom and Enavir surmised he must have gone on ahead of them.   They continued through the jungle, guided by the Fog Warriors for the rest of the afternoon and covered many more miles than they had achieved on previous days by virtue of the fact that they appeared to be treading established pathways, though he could not be sure if they had been made by the natives or animals.   Towards evening they started up an incline that seemed to be taking them above the tree line. As the sun dropped below the horizon they breasted the top of the slope to find a large bowl shaped valley spread out before them, with a mountain peak rising beyond it.

            At the base of this was established a large camp, although he realised as he drew near it was more like a permanent settlement for the native rebels.   Everywhere were simple structures made of wood woven with leaves that he assumed were used as shelters from the weather when necessary, as he could see bedding and simple chairs inside some and what he took to be food supplies and weapons stored in others. Children were playing happily as they approached, although their parents called them to their sides just to be on the safe side.   The whole community then stopped what they were doing to study them.

            Enavir took the opportunity to do the same and was surprised to see that when they weren’t wearing their body paint the majority of these natives had dusky skins and dark hair.   Their clothing was dyed a multitude of colours, with a combination of red, orange and yellow seeming the most popular, and both sexes wore ornate jewellery made from bones, shells and brightly coloured beads.

            The returning warriors were greeted with enthusiasm and Enavir’s companions invited with gestures and faltering common speech to occupy an area that had been prepared for them with water for washing, food and drink.  Shortly after, their supplies were deposited with them as well and Enavir took the opportunity to look for his silverite arm. He had noticed several of the natives staring at his truncated arm as he walked past them and it had made him feel oddly naked.  

            As the camp returned to normal following their arrival, he had the opportunity to listen to their hosts talking in their native language.   It turned out to be an odd mix of common and what he assumed must be an ancient human dialect, plus a smattering of Qunlat and what he recognised to be elven.   He had read that the native Seheron culture had a considerable antiquity, probably dating to the first settlement of northern Thedas by the seafaring Neromenians.   Much had been destroyed, first by the Imperium and later by the Qunari but the language it seemed still survived in some form.   He wondered how much else might have been preserved in the interior, away from the constantly contested coastlands, and how much that culture might have owed to the ancient elves.

            His own party was understandably subdued and not inclined for much conversation.   Isabela was unusually introverted but assured him she was okay when he enquired.   Fenris was sullen and brooding.   Only Lauren seemed relaxed enough to leave their gathering when they had finished their meal and wander across the camp, although Enavir suspected she was going in search of the macaw, which had left her shoulder as they descended into the valley.   No sooner had she done so than Enavir sensed a murmur of expectation in the inhabitants nearest to him, which then swelled to an excited chant.

            “Iveani.”

            The Phantom had appeared on a rocky shelf alongside the entrance to a cave at the far end of the valley.   Enavir was shocked to hear a definite elven word being used by the natives to refer to him, particularly considering it meant ‘Fade Touched’.   He was still wearing his mask and cowl and Enavir wondered if the natives even knew what he looked like.   His hands were held out over the company as though blessing them.  

            A new group of people appeared from the cave beside him.   Skins painted white, they were scantily clad in white cloth adorned with black, grey and white feathers, their heads adorned with an elaborate headdress, also decorated with feathers.  

            “Fog Dancers,” muttered Fenris with a tinge of awe.

            They descended to the floor and immediately started to chant a steady, hypnotic rhythm and dance in time with it.   The onlookers took up the rhythm in the clapping of their hands.   It became apparent that they were re-enacting the events of the day in celebration of their victory over the Qunari.   After completing the cycle of events, they invited the onlookers to join them in the dance.   As they did so, a long chain started to form that interwove in a sequence of circles.   This continued on until everyone in the community was a part of the chain, even the children, with the Fog Dancers leading them, ducking and twisting under people’s arms, making the form of the chain all the more complex, until they finally linked up with the last person to join and the circle was complete.

            “The Circle of Life,” Fenris said reverently. “We are all connected. They told me of this when I was here before but I never witnessed it.”

            The dance finished and the people returned to their normal routine.   One of the Fog Dancers approached their party.

            “Iveani requests the presence of the two elves,” he informed them. “Follow me.”

            Enavir nodded to Fenris and they accompanied the Fog Dancer to a set of steps that led up to the rocky shelf.   He indicated they should go on without him.   Iveani watched them approach from his vantage point and just before they reached the top of the steps, he turned and retreated into the interior of the cave.   Within it they found a comfortable dwelling place, with cushions to rest on, a low table, shelves with books and bottles in equal measure and lit by torches in sconces on the walls. To the rear was an opening that presumably led to his sleeping quarters.   On one side, not far from the entrance, lay an enormous black jungle cat, which raised its head and stared at them with intense yellow eyes.   Iveani had his back to them as they entered.

            “Come, make yourself comfortable.   We have much to discuss.”

            “I’d prefer an introduction first,” said Fenris.

            “Oh but we’ve already met,” Iveani said with apparent amusement in his voice, before turning and removing his cowl and mask to reveal a slim faced, fair skinned human with long blond hair in braids that hung down nearly to his waist. “Hello, Fenris.”

            Enavir glanced across at his companion and saw the total shock on his face as he recognised their host.

            “Feynriel!”

           


	15. Chapter 15

            “You’re Feynriel?” Enavir was finding it hard to accept the information. “Dorian has been searching for you in Minrathous.”

            “Dorian?”

            “His lover,” said Fenris, “The one that Chroix alluded to.”

            “I don’t recall a Magister by that name but then I have been away from Tevinter for a few years.   And you are?”

            “Enavir Lavellan of Clan Revassan.   We recently reclaimed Arlathan Forest.”

            “Also known as the Liberator, is that correct?”

            “It is apparently a title that goes with his sword,” said Fenris dryly. “He uses it when he wants to impress people. Personally, I think he likes fancy titles; he’s had a few over the years, Herald of Andraste, Lord Inquisitor. At times it’s hard to keep track.”

            It was clear that the titles meant nothing to Feynriel as his face remained impassive.

            “How did you come to be here?” said Enavir.

            “More importantly, how did you persuade the Fog Warriors to accept you?” Fenris said with obvious mistrust.

            “It’s fortunate for you that I did or you’d be dead by now after what Chroix said. Luckily they trust to my judgement.”

            “So what sort of blood magic are you using to control them?” Fenris sneered.

            “None,” Feynriel responded mildly.  

            “If he’s a true Somniari it would interfere with his connection to the Fade,” explained Enavir. “At least that’s what Solas claimed.”

            “Is that true?” Feynriel looked genuinely interested in the revelation. “I did not know that from my previous studies, although it would explain why Dreamers are as rare as hen’s teeth now in Tevinter, as are mages who don’t resort to it to augment their power.”

            “And you are really trying to maintain that you have never done so,” Fenris said with scepticism.

            “Absolutely not, I promised Marethari before I left and even without that vow I would have felt bound by my debt to Hawke.   She gave me my life back and trusted that I would not misuse my powers.   I would never betray her confidence in me.”

            “So what do you call that display with Chroix and Isabela?” Fenris accused. “That had the stamp of blood magic all over it.”

            “What you mean is that you have seen blood mages replicate that sort of power, which they could never have done with their natural gifts alone.   I do wonder if that is why they turned to blood magic in the past. They had heard or read what the Dreamers were said to be capable of and knew they were not, so resorted to underhanded means to achieve the same results.   That way people would believe that the gift had not died out among their family and so they would retain their fear and respect.”

            “So you are saying that there are no other Somniari among the Magisters?” Enavir wanted clarification on the issue.

            “Not that I was aware of.”

            “But how would you know?”

            “By dream walking to find them; that’s part of the reason I ended up here.”   He gestured to the cushions. “Please do sit down and relax.   It’s hard having a reasonable conversation with people who look like they might want to bolt from my presence or leap forward and murder me”

            He said this with a faint smile at Fenris.

            “Incidentally, I wouldn’t advise it. Jagurandi would rip your throat out in an instant if she sensed you were about to harm me.”

            The jungle cat stood up at the sound of her name and walked towards him, purring loudly. She stood nearly waist high and Enavir judged was at least eight feet, nose to tail. He ruffled the fur affectionately on the back of her head and she rubbed up against him, after which she lay down again in the floor space between Feynriel and his guests.   Enavir gave a glance and a nod to Fenris and they both sat down on the cushions that had been placed for that purpose.   Feynriel gave a nod of gratitude and then seated himself as well.

            “So, perhaps I should start by explaining why I left Minrathous. I should mention that this Dorian of yours would probably have had difficulty in tracing me by my elven name. Marethari had warned me that letting the mages know I was half elf might be a bad idea because they would respect me less and my name was something of a giveaway.   I found that even being a southern mage tended to earn their contempt.

            “Luckily Varric had arranged for some false papers to be manufactured for me, saying that I was the younger son of some minor lord in Kirkwall who didn’t want his family’s honour to be stained with the shame of having produced a mage, so had secretly arranged for me to be smuggled out of the south and taken to Tevinter for training.   So I became known as Fergus and it was accepted that my family name was never to be mentioned.”

            “Why didn’t Varric tell us as much?” said Enavir.

            “Actually Hawke did pass that information on to Dorian,” said Fenris. “He probably didn’t think it relevant to mention it to you.”

            “That only gave me a suitable introduction to the Minrathous Circle,” continued Feynriel. “Once there, the only way to advance my training beyond the basics was to find someone to sponsor me.   Marethari had also warned me not to reveal initially what we suspected about my gifts because that would attract all the wrong sort of people.   I simply made it clear that I was particularly interested in studying the workings of the Fade rather than learning any flashy offensive magic.   That was helpful as the most ambitious students are all trying to apprentice to powerful Magisters and hone their skills to advance their status, with the Magister using them to augment their own power base and prestige.   Someone wanting to study magic for its own sake and having a more scholarly interest in the Fade was regarded as being too much of an academic to be a threat by the other students and not ambitious enough for the majority of senior mages.   Luckily for me I was able to apprentice to a former student of Livia Alexius, the foremost expert at that time in studies of the Fade and the Veil, who was still part of her research team.”

            “That would be Gerion Alexius’ wife who was killed by darkspawn.   Dorian was apprenticed to him.”

            “Oh _that_ Dorian, you mean the peacock,” Feynriel gave a laugh. “I’d understood his family were pitching for him to be the next Archon not a Magister.   Still the rest of it fits. There were rumours, you know, about his preferences.” He chuckled and raised his eyebrows.”

            “Yes, I know,” Enavir said in bored fashion.

            He wondered when people would stop associating Dorian with his scandalous former life, although when he thought about it, having an elven lover who was not a slave was probably still considered shocking in Tevinter society.

            “I doubt Dorian even knew who I was in those days,” said Feynriel. “I remember seeing him occasionally when my sponsor visited their house in Minrathous and I was needed to carry such things as he wouldn’t entrust to slaves.   It was very difficult not to notice Dorian when he was in the room; he had a way of ensuring that.”

            That brought a reflective smile to Enavir’s face. “That’s true.”

            “Anyway,” Feynriel sighed, “the visits soon came to an end.   As you know, Livia died and her research team disbanded.   My sponsor became disillusioned with esoteric studies or may be succeeding to the family’s seat in the Senate made him more ambitious. Whatever the case, he started moving in more disturbing circles.   There was talk of restoring the old glory of the Imperium and I suspected he was dabbling with blood magic in secret but luckily my southern connection made him decide to dispense with my services once I had achieved full enchanter status with the Circle.”

            “Was he part of any organised group?”

            “I’m not sure but I seem to recall a name mentioned on one occasion, just before I left.   What was it now?   Veni…Venatori, that’s it.   Do you know of them?”

            Enavir and Fenris exchanged glances.

            “You could say that,” Enavir replied ruefully. “I once had the pleasure of leading the fight against them.   As you may surmise, we won.”

            “You mean it became more than just talk?” Feynriel’s eyes widened. “I definitely lost touch with events in the wider world didn’t I?”

            “So you really have no idea what’s been happening down south?”

            “Not once I lost contact with Hawke.   That was even before I came to Seheron.   Once on the island, events beyond here hardly seem important and the Qunari don’t encourage idle gossip among their citizens, which would be the only way we would find anything out.   We heard about events after the Qunari launched the attack on the mainland because in a way we were part of it; they were using Qunathras as their base of operations so it was much closer to home but anything beyond Tevinter just doesn’t get this far.”

            “I thought the Breach was something that bothered everyone.”

            “Ah, you mean the tear in the Veil.   Now I did hear about that but not through normal channels.   There were murmurs in the Fade and the spirits were agitated about something but I chose not to investigate personally. After my previous experience with Aurelian Titus, I have been less reckless in my use of the Fade than I used to be.”

            “I keep coming across that name. You knew him?”

            “Not personally.   The Fade was as close as I ever came and nearly got me killed.   Your Dorian didn’t have anything to do with him, did he?”

            “He wouldn’t be my Dorian if he did. Dorian is one of those rare as hen’s teeth Magisters you were talking about.   He doesn’t like Imperialistic cults or blood magic.”

            “That explains why Fenris hasn’t killed you.   I was wondering.”

            He gave a teasing glance in the direction of Fenris, who responded with a glower, before continuing.

            “Titus was experimenting with enhancing his blood magic to reproduce the sorts of things that Dreamers can do and expand upon them in his fortress on Seheron.   It made the Fade a very dangerous place to be if you attracted his attention. When he realised I was watching him, he knew I needed to either be recruited or disposed of. He couldn’t actually harm me in the Fade, I was too strong for that, but he was able to identify me and thus locate me outside it.   Fortunately, he didn’t come himself but sent some minions to kidnap me.   They bundled me on a boat bound for his stronghold where he intended to persuade me to his cause.   I managed to influence my captors sufficiently that they ended up fighting one another and scuppered the boat.   I swam to the shore and fled into the jungle, hoping that if I stayed out of the Fade for a time, he would think I had died at sea and would stop looking for me.”

            “How did you do that?”

            “There are herbs you can use. Marethari thought they might help me when I was being disturbed by demons.   It sort of makes the connection fuzzy, so you are harder to find. There are others that stop you from dreaming by keeping you semi-awake.   It is also possible to cast wards that block you from the Fade, at least partially.   I learned about that in Tevinter.   So using a combination of all three, I managed to go into hiding from denizens of the Fade.   Of course it meant that I was also left ignorant of the outside world.”

            “Didn’t it affect your magic?”

            “The more Fade dependent skills and powerful spells but I could still do regular spells such as healing magic, elemental and nature magic.   I was simply limited in the power I could utilise and couldn’t dream walk.   It wasn’t so bad, except the lack of dream sleep.   Thankfully I only had to maintain that as long as he was alive and not long after the Fog Warriors found me, we heard that he had been killed.   So I felt confident to dream sleep again but I had learned my lesson and was very careful about spying on other people through the Fade in case they sensed me.   That’s why, when the spirits starting mentioning a disturbance in the Veil, I chose not to investigate too closely.”

            “So if you weren’t obtaining information through the Fade, how do you know as much as you do?”

            “Ah now, that would be telling,” Feynriel gave a teasing grin. “Okay, I think I can trust you with my secret. In exchange I’d like you to let me read your memories. Just the important parts about what I’ve missed while I’ve been hiding up here.”

            “Is that you were doing with Chroix and Isabela?”

            “Yes but it is harder when the subject resists you and you may end up with an incomplete picture.”

            “Is that why you haven’t tried forcing the issue?”

            “That had more to do with the fact that I couldn’t with either of you.   Fenris’ markings would prevent it and you are guarded by one of the bright ones.”

            “What’s he talking about?” Fenris rounded on Enavir.

            “Oh I’m sorry,” said Feynriel, “I thought he knew.”

            “Glandivalis has a spirit connected with it that guards the bearer from mental intrusion if they agree to it.   It is probably why it never approached you as it was aware of your animosity towards such things.   I am a spirit warrior.”

            “A what?”

            “A warrior who has a connection with a spirit of the Fade that aids and protects him in battle,” Enavir gave him an apologetic look. “I’m sorry, I should have told you before but I knew it would freak you out.”

            Fenris looked thoughtful. “You say it protects you from blood magic intrusion?”

            “Pretty much any sort of assault on my mind.   Cillian thought it might be essential bearing in mind what mages in Tevinter are prone to do.”

            To his surprise, Fenris smiled broadly. “I like the sound of that, beating them at their own game.   Hawke is a spirit healer, so I am familiar with the concept of benign spirits aiding a mage but I never realised it could apply to non-magic users as well.”

            “So what about my proposal?” said Feynriel, “My secrets in return for your memories?”

            “Let me think about it a bit,” said Enavir cautiously. “I know I allowed the faith spirit a connection but my previous experiences with intruders in my mind have been disturbing. An envy demon wanted my thoughts so it could replace me.”

            “Fair enough,” Feynriel sounded casual. “It’s getting late. Perhaps you’d like to use the privy while you consider the matter.”

            Enavir gave him a quizzical look.

            “A little clue as a show of good faith,” Feynriel winked at him, “Just between us okay?”

            Enavir started with the realisation of the conversation that Feynriel had repeated and nodded his agreement to the proposal. Feynriel indicated a side chamber, the doorway covered by an animal skin, that he discovered was indeed the privy.   When Enavir returned to the main chamber he found the macaw sitting on Feynriel’s shoulder.  

            “So you’re not a shapeshifter then?”

            “Please,” Feynriel sounded offended, “Nothing so crude.”

            Enavir shrugged and sighed. “Okay I agree to your terms, only you tell us your secret first.”

            “Naturally,” Feynriel offered the bird a nut to crack.

            “Lauren will be looking for him.”

            “She’s gone to bed.   It’s been a long day.   Tark will go back in the morning.”

            “Tark?”

            “That’s his name.   He did try to tell you.”

            Fenris sniggered. “Lauren will be so disappointed. She calls him Freddie MacFeathers.”

            “I know,” Feynriel gave a reflective smile. “It’s sort of sweet isn’t it?”

            “I wouldn’t call him sweet exactly,” said Enavir.

            “Dolt,” said Fenris, “he doesn’t mean the bird.”

            Enavir decided to ignore him and returned to the former topic of conversation.

            “So are you going to tell us?”

            “All in good time,” Feynriel moved the macaw to a perch beside him and settled back in relaxed fashon. “Now are we all sitting comfortably, then I’ll begin. Are you familiar with this history of Darinius?”

            “The first Archon of Tevinter.”

            “That’s the one. How much do you know?”

            “From what Dorian has told me, he united the three kingdoms of Tevinter, Neromenian and Qarinus into the Imperium and was also responsible for making the alliance with the dwarves that has lasted to this day. I believe he also founded the Magisterium, initially ruled by the priesthood of the seven old gods.   That’s about it really.”

            “So you’ve not read any of the stories of his early life.   They are popular bedtime reading for children in the Imperium.”

            “I can’t say I have.”

            “Fenris?”

            “There is nothing I like better than a tale before bedtime about the founder of it all,” he responded with sarcasm.

            “I’ll take that as a no, then.   Whenever you come across statues or pictures of him, he is always shown with an entourage of faithful animals, the principle ones being a crow and a cat. The stories explain why. He was quite a prodigy as a child, able to charm the birds off the trees or the cats in the household.   With these animal friends to act as his spies, he was able to acquire so many secrets about people’s intentions that it was rumoured he could divine the future.   Now anyone who knows anything about animals will see a flaw in this tale.   Even if you could train them as faithful servants, how do they communicate these secrets to you?   How would they even be able to understand people’s whispered conversations or hidden notes?   Surely this would be beyond the capability of even the most highly trained creatures?   So was this all a fabrication or does this charming story hide a hidden truth?”

            “Do enlighten us,” said Fenris in a board tone.

            “I think it proves that Darinius _was_ a genuine Somniari.   When I came to Seheron I had nothing but my wits and my magic when I entered the jungle.   It seemed a frightful place at first but then I recalled my time with the Dalish. I remembered the halla keeper saying how animals will respect you if you respect them and they can sense your fear, in fact any emotion, just as spirits do.   So I started to interact with them just as I had done with spirits in the Fade once Hawke showed me that fear was my worst enemy.   Then I discovered I could have a mental connection with those I became closest to. With a degree of concentration I could link my mind so that I could travel with them and see through their eyes.   Obviously it was impossible to link with more than one at a time but with the others I could still suggest where I would like them to go and learn where they had been and what they had seen through viewing their memories when I connected with them again.   In time it was even possible to discern speech or written words.   The creatures had no comprehension of what it meant but their memory recorded it and then I made sense of it.”

            “So the stories surrounding the Fog Phantom are true but it isn’t magic you’re using?” said Enavir, astounded.

            “He’s admitted he’s using his powers as a Somniari on them,” said Fenris. “That is magic.”

            “I’m not so sure about that,” Enavir argued back. “Being a Somniari just makes you spiritually more sensitive.   I’ve got a strong connection with Dorian and I’m not even a mage.   The halla keepers do seem to develop a very strong connection with their charges, so much that they can sense when they are unwell even before the visible signs really show. It is said that the Grey Wardens who rode the griffons had a sort of mental connection between them.”

            “I bet they couldn’t read their thoughts though or see through their eyes.”

            “Fenris is right,” agreed Feynriel. “What I use is magic but it seems to me that it is an old magic that has largely been forgotten.   I remember reading that when Thalsian first used blood magic it was the sacrifice of animals, not people.”

            “From research Dorian has been doing in the archives, it would seem to us that was the case until much later in history, when they discovered how much more power human sacrifice, and in particular elven sacrifice, could achieve.”

            “Even so, it was the suffering of animals that first put them on the downward path to the ultimate depravity,” asserted Feynriel.   “I don’t believe anyone who had indulged in blood magic would be able to form a bond with the animals in this way.”

            “So you’re suggesting that Darinius wasn’t a blood magic either?”

            “I think that must be so, considering the relationship he was said to have with his animals.”

            “What about the fact that mages use blood magic to replicate the powers of the Somniari?” Fenris suggested.   “He could have read about this use of animals by early Dreamers and then controlled them by blood magic.”

            “That is true,” Feynriel looked thoughtful. “If that was the case, then it is somewhat ironic that my memories of the stories about him should have helped me develop my bond without it.   A blood mage, though, would only have animal slaves not loyal friends as I do.”

            “And this is the whole truth behind the stories?”

            “It depends what stories you have heard.   The Fog Warriors are as much a part of the jungle as the animals are.   They are skilled in tracking and covering their trail.   The fog is still vital to their success. They have their own spies.   I just have eyes and ears in places that humans could not reach without being discovered.”

            “And do the Fog Warriors know this is the secret of your insights into the enemy?”

            “They know that I can command nature to obey me and that the creatures of the jungle are my friends.   I have also told them I am Fade touched and that is why I took the name Iveani with them.   To them I am a shaman and blessed with gifts from Nahar, just as the Fog Dancers are.   I can summon the fog as they do but that is their secret to tell, not mine.”

            “So this Nahar is their god?”

            “I think it could be their term for the Maker.   Nahar is the Wellspring of Creation. Everything has its origin in him, or her.   I’m not clear about some of their words but the gender seems to vary according to what function Nahar is performing. They do not think of Nahar as abandoning them so much as people turning away from him and losing their connection.   It happened when we lost our respect for life and balance in the world. The Circle Dance is intended to re-establish that link with the Creator.”

            “The Fog Dancers kill though.   They killed on your orders today.”

            “It is unavoidable while people try and force us to be what we do not want to be.   The Qun do not respect life.   If they do not see a purpose for it, then it must be destroyed.   They fear that which they do not understand.”

            “Many people are guilty of that.”

            “They forbid people to dream.   That is the way we connect, through our dreams. What our waking minds find so hard, our sleeping minds do without effort.   That is the true purpose of Dreamers, to help people to connect, to guide them to the Wellspring.”

            “How do you know that?”

            “Through listening to the rhythm of life in the deep jungle, that is unsullied by the conflict of the coastlands.” His voice became softer and his eyes seemed to lose their focus.   “It was not possible for me to do this until I came to Seheron. I have always lived in cities where the spirit of the world has been scarred by death and pain. Even Sundermount was marred by conflict. Perhaps if I had visited the wilderness in my youth, I would have made the connection before, but it was on Seheron that I found the unity I sought. When I asked how I could heal the world, I was directed to the Fog Warriors.” He looked back at them both and smiled, saying in his normal voice. “I suppose I must sound crazy to you.”

            “No,” said Enavir swiftly before Fenris could contradict him. “I experienced something similar back home in Telanadas when I was trying to make sense of all that I had learned about the origins of the world, the Maker and the religions that claim to follow his wisdom. It was after I pledged myself to the cause of freedom that I asked where I should go next.   The answer was Seheron.”

            “Now will you let me see your memories?”

            Enavir nodded and moved forward around the jungle cat, to where Feynriel could easily reach him.   Feynriel placed his palm on his forehead.

            “Now relax and go back to the first place you think I should know about.”

            “That would be the Breach. That is what changed my life.”

            “Very well, start from there and just remember what happened after that. Skip over any bits that are personal, I don’t want to intrude on you and Dorian.”

            “What about me?” said Fenris. “Do you want me to wait?”

            “Of course, this won’t take long.” He returned his attention to Enavir. “Show me.”

            The next thing Enavir knew he was looking at Feynriel in the Fade.   A bright form was standing off to one side, observing but not interfering, allowing them to connect. Feynriel moved to his side and they travelled together through the events of the last five years.   It was as though he was watching himself as his adventures unfolded before them.   In some places he instinctively slowed the pace of revelation, wanting Feynriel to appreciate the importance of what was revealed, after which they spend onwards once more.

            It seemed like it must have taken hours, yet when he reached the point where they disembarked the ship on Seheron and Feynriel broke the connection, he realised that barely any time at all had passed in the real world.   Fenris was still sitting there with much the same disapproving frown as when they had left a moment before and the lamps on the wall had burned no lower.   Feynriel looked agitated.

            “This Solas, do you believe he will go through with his plan?”

            “As soon as he has the power to do so, I think he will.”

            “He must not, we must stop him.”

            “You don’t say,” said Fenris with heavy sarcasm.

            “Oh grow up,” Feynriel responded curtly. “Just be assured, Enavir, that I will do everything I can to assist you. I just need to deal with the Qunari first.   I’ve had it all worked out for some time now but there are a few lose ends that need tidying up. You can help with that.”

            “Whatever you say but surely it isn’t that simple?   The Qunari have always been a tough nut to crack.”

            “Nothing can stand against the power of nature.   The fog is only a fraction of what Nahar has placed at my disposal.   Solas, though, is a much greater challenge. I must think more on the matter.   I’d appreciate it if you would leave now.”

            “Of course,” Enavir got to his feet. “Come on Fenris, we need our beauty sleep anyway.”

            “Speak for yourself,” muttered Fenris.

           

           


	16. Chapter 16

            Enavir slept deeply and woke refreshed to find it was already mid-morning.   Everyone in camp was going about their normal work and his own companions had left their sleeping area and were mingling with them, with the exception of Fenris, who appeared to be sampling a local liquid delicacy by the look of enjoyment on his face.

            “Good is it?”

            “So you’re awake at last,” Fenris drained his cup. “It’s very good actually. Never got to sample it last time I was here. They call it cacoa.   Try some.”

            He passed a cup to Enavir.   The cup itself was a shallow wooden vessel and the liquid a dark brown. Enavir sniffed at it.

            “Is that cinnamon I can smell?”

            “Probably, I was told that they add spices to the basic drink.   Trust me, it tastes great and since I’m still standing, I think it’s reasonably safe.”

            Enavir sipped it at first, liked what he found and downed the rest in a couple of deep gulps.

            “Hold on,” laughed Fenris. “I think you should pace yourself.”

            “Why, is it alcoholic?”      

            “Not exactly but I understand it can sort of fan the libido if you over do it.   Wouldn’t want you making a fool of yourself in front of the natives, now would we?”

            “Remind me to take some with me for Dorian when we leave.”

            “Six months away from him; judging on previous experience he won’t need stimulating.”

            Enavir gave a reflective smile and nodded.   He was finding the separation increasingly difficult to endure, cacoa drink or not.   It seemed best to change the subject. He gave a quick glance round for local wildlife, before asking.

            “So what do you think of Feynriel?”

            “To be honest I barely recognise him.   When I knew him back in Kirkwall he was a frightened teenager whose voice hadn’t even broken properly and barely knew what he was capable of.   Now he is truly terrifying and yet…..”

            “Yes?”

            “Okay, don’t mock me but in a strange way I do trust him.   Yet some part of me is saying that may be it is because he is controlling me in some way and it’s disconcerting.”

            “It’s hard to break the habit of a lifetime,” Enavir grinned.

            “I said, don’t mock me.”

            “I’m not, just stating fact.” He became more serious. “Actually, though, I share your concern. We only have his word for it that he can’t control us in some way. It may not be overt control but exerting an influence to encourage our thoughts in a certain direction, like demons do.   I seem to recall that some years ago you accompanied Hawke into the Fade to rescue Feynriel and the demon there managed to make you turn against her.”

            “Don’t remind me,” Fenris looked disconcerted. “I was angry with Hawke afterwards for taking me there in the first place but really I was ashamed of my own actions.”

            “So how did the demon manage to persuade you?”

            “It offered me power, to make myself the equal of any Magister and so I would never have to fear them again.”

            “So it played upon your fears and perhaps your desires also.”

            “Is this interrogation leading anywhere?” Fenris said pointedly.

            “Feynriel was there in the Fade when that happened.   How do you know he didn’t witness it at the time?   You came here wishing to help the Fog People, partly by way of atonement for what Denarius made you do.   Freddie Macfeathers first made us aware of his presence immediately after you told me that, so I wouldn’t be surprised if he overheard our conversation.   Feynriel could have used that knowledge to subtly influence you.”

            “Are you saying that I shouldn’t trust him?” Fenris sounded wary at the revelation.

            “Oh I’d trust him to rid Seheron of the foreign invaders but I wouldn’t abandon all your scepticism just yet.   I suppose I’d feel happier if I knew exactly what he wants from me and how he proposes dealing with Solas.   My lover is a mage and so is my best friend and yet I find Feynriel difficult to accept.   He’s so unlike any mage I’ve encountered before.”

            “You know, if you think about it, we’re all just a bunch of misfits. If the Maker _is_ behind all this, then he sure knows how to pick them.”

            “So have you seen Feynriel this morning?”

            “Briefly; he called in to invite Lauren to meet his menagerie. He was dressed like a normal native so I’m not sure that she even realised he was the Phantom.   Anyway they’re off somewhere with Freddie MacFeathers and that fearsome jungle cat in attendance.”

            “He really is sweet on her then?”

            “Finally, the penny drops. I just hope she reciprocates because I don’t know how you deal with a disappointed Somniari.”

            “Like anyone else, I should imagine.   Best not to interfere, I’m sure Lauren is well able to deal with the situation.   How are the rest of them?”

            “Isabela is still wary of him but she seems to have recovered something of her old assurance. She asked me to tell you on behalf of them all that next time you want to start offering challenges of defiance, be so good as to check with them first.”

            “But that was to the Qunari, not the Fog Warriors or him. Would they rather I’d surrendered to our pursuers?”

            “I think it was pretty clear that she wouldn’t have avoided interrogation either way but she’s still feeling shaken by the experience and is looking for someone to blame.   You _are_ the leader of this enterprise when all is said and done and she is disconcerted that he knows everything he wants to about her and she didn’t get any say in the matter.”

            “It can’t have been pleasant for her.   I have to admit it felt peculiar laying my thoughts bare for him and I’d agreed to it.”

            “I never thought I’d be so thankful that I _have_ these markings but there’s no way I’d have agreed to his proposal, even if I didn’t.  Anyway, Bella and her crew are getting to know the locals; as she says, if he is proposing they do some sort of business together, it pays to know who they’ll be dealing with in the future.   Plus she wants some insider information on what are the most valuable commodities from this part of the world, so she can get ahead of the competition back home.   She actually seems to fit in rather well, I’ve noticed, by drawing on her Rivaini roots.   Do you suppose there is a connection between the two cultures?”

            “Probably, they both stem from the seafaring Neromenians and Rivain has pretty successfully resisted outside influences, much as these people have.   However, the Fog People don’t seem to have any gender bias when it comes to roles in the community from what I can see. The Fog Dancers are male and female and beneath all that paint, I think the Fog Warriors are too.   Feynriel gains his status from his magical gifts, not a pre-conceived idea of what a mystic should be.   I must admit, from what little I’ve seen, I like this society.”

            “So do I.” Fenris agreed. “I always did, although I never got the chance to experience it in depth, like we do now.”

            “Come on then, let’s mingle.”

            Enavir quickly discovered that the natives had a love of colour.   In addition to their clothes, there were woven bags, pottery and even musical instruments dyed or decorated in myriad hues. They favoured wind instruments: flutes made from reeds or ocarina, which particularly lent themselves to ornamentation. The children happily gave a demonstration to them on how to play these. There were also drums made from hollowed out tree trunks and covered with a strange paper like material, again painted and adorned with bright motifs.

            Only their armour was stained off white with no other adornment, clearly for purely practical reasons.   Their crafts people would easily rival those of the Dalish, particularly the weapon smiths.   Examining the wood used, he was surprised to find it was iron bark.   On enquiring about its origins, he was told that there were groves of it to be found in the south of the island on the Alam peninsular. The master smith also indicated by gestures to Enavir and Fenris that the skill to work it had originally come from the elves.   The man explained that they had no metals on the island which was why the iron bark was so valuable to them. The blades of their knives and daggers were made of obsidian, as were their spear and arrowheads. This was in plentiful supply on the plateau. However, he also said that their Fog Dancers knew a style of fighting that did not require weapons of any sort.

            When they reached what appeared to be a training area, they discovered Isabela preparing to engage in combat with one of the native warriors and her crew having bets with the locals on the result.   It was to be a friendly, sparing match with blunted weapons but nevertheless there seemed to be avid interest being taken in the result all round. Fenris chuckled as he observed the scene.

            “She just can’t resist the opportunity for a duel.”

            “Does she do this often then?”

            “For as long as I’ve known her; she maintains she invented the style of combat.   I have heard that in the past she’d offer to sleep with anyone who could best her. Of course no one ever did unless she wanted to bed them anyway.”

            “Do you suppose that’s the prize this time?”

            “I doubt it but who knows with Bela. More likely she just wanted to get her dignity back and have a bit of fun at the expense of the locals at the same time.”

            The spectators on both sides were thoroughly engaged in the contest, giving murmurs of approval when one of the combatants made a successful move and urging them on with cheers of encouragement. Enavir had to admit that Isabela was skilful and her fighting style had a grace and fluidity to it that showed her shapely body to its best advantage.   He began to understand how she used the technique for foreplay.

            Isabela won the initial contest and bets were honoured. Enavir noted that this was in the form of trinkets rather than coin and he imagined that the natives would have little use for the latter. The Raiders seemed satisfied and he guessed that their chief pleasure was having successfully wagered on Isabela rather than the value of the bet.

            “So who’s next?” Isabela said with a challenging smile of confidence.

            A second person stepped forward in response and the duelling resumed. It was clear that Isabela easily held the advantage in these face to face contests. Enavir surmised that the Fog Warriors were too accustomed to fighting from under the cover of the fog, where stealth was paramount and overcoming your opponent before they even saw you was an essential part of survival.  

            Isabela, on the other hand, had adopted her fighting style not just for sparing matches in port but also to deal with the problems unique to engaging in combat on the deck of a ship, where there were few places to hide and little room for manoeuvre, so being specialised in agile hand to hand combat was essential.

            Once again, Isabela was victorious and the Raiders eagerly collected their winnings, this time rather more valuable, consisting of obsidian knives and similar items.   The natives had probably hoped to acquire some examples of metal weaponry in making their wager and whilst the knives would not be a great loss, Enavir hoped that the good humour would last as Isabela once again made her challenge and Remi raised the stakes.

            “Double or quits?”

            “I’ll take that bet on behalf of us all and wager it on myself.”

            Enavir started in surprise to hear Feynriel’s voice and turned to see him approaching the sparing ground with Lauren alongside, the macaw on one shoulder and a small monkey on the other.   The Fog Warriors looked delighted at the prospect but the Raiders were less enthusiastic as they turned their gaze on Isabela to see how she would respond.   When she appeared to hesitate, Feynriel made an additional offer.

            “I’ll do it unarmed and promise not to stare into your eyes, lest you should find my gaze disturbing.”

            That was sufficient provocation to Isabela.   Her eyes flashed and her chin tilted up proudly as the accepted the challenge.

            “Done,” she declared with gusto.

            “Should we warn her what she’s dealing with?” Enavir whispered to Fenris.

            “She knows, after what he put her through. I’m surprised she let him play her like that. It was obvious he was reminding her on purpose.”

            “May be he’ll let her win.”

            “You think?” Fenris raised his eyebrows. “You heard him; he’s not just fighting on behalf of himself but the honour of his people.”

            “Then maybe she should let him win,” said Enavir ruefully.

            “Pigs might fly,” chuckled Fenris.

            Feynriel suggested Isabela take a short break, to which she agreed and took the opportunity to sit down and relax.   He started to remove his long, rainbow coloured robes to leave him covered by just a short, white tunic.   He started to strap on his only armour which was in the form of leather gloves and bracers that covered his arms nearly up to his elbow, plus leather shin pads. He went bare footed.   As he was preparing, Lauren joined Enavir and Fenris.

            “So who’s your new friend?” said Enavir, gesturing towards the monkey.

            “Cheeky,” she responded. “I dare say that’s not his real name but Iveani says he won’t mind.   I called him that when he kept on trying to look in my pouches and take what he found there.”

            Enavir wondered whether the monkey had done this naturally or had received encouragement to do so from elsewhere.   He suspected that at the very least he had done similar thefts in the past on behalf of Feynriel and the behaviour had become habitual.

            “So how do you find….Iveani?” Enavir thought it best to use the name Feynriel had given her.

            “He’s strange but I’m used to that after being with you.”

            “Thanks!”

            “I meant more the people you hang out with, the mages in particular.   I’d never had much experience of mages before I met your friends.   Still you can be ….hmm, how shall I put it, different at times too.   You know, people can find you very intimidating at first, you exude this sense of power and superiority.”

            “That would be the Dalish in him,” quipped Fenris.

            “I thought that too but I don’t get the same sense of it with Joss and the others.   It’s something about you personally rather than where you came from. That’s only a part of you, though, and perhaps it was through being Inquisitor and people expected you to be like that, so it became natural to you.   When you aren’t on show, having to inspire confidence in your followers and dread in your enemies, you’re quite different; kind, understanding, gentle, loving, even quite modest really.   Iveani is like that too.”

            “How do you know? You’ve only just met him.”

            Enavir was concerned just how much Feynriel might be influencing her opinion of him.

            “You forget my former profession,” Lauren responded testily. “I’m not a child, however young I may look.   As a whore it pays to be able to see behind the mask of the prospective customer, to be able to evaluate quickly if taking his coin is going to be worth the risk.   Even then, he may surprise you when he lets down his guard in the bedroom.   Some of the toughest guardsmen can be quite gentle on the inside. They just can’t afford to show it when on duty.”

            “So you think Iveani is gentle on the inside?”

            “The animals wouldn’t trust him if he weren’t.   I learned that from the horse keepers. They may serve you out of fear but never love you.   You can see how much affection these creatures have for him when he’s with them and it is their regard for him that keeps them from fighting among themselves. They are not domestic pets like cats and dogs; they are still truly wild animals. Jaguaradi would normally eat monkeys like Cheeky for breakfast but she doesn’t because they are both his friends.”

            She gave a shrug. “That’s how he explained it to me anyway.”

            “I see.   So did he have anything else to say for himself?”

            “He said he was sorry he upset me by interrogating Isabela but he had to know she could be trusted, not just for his own sake but everyone else.   One of his followers remembered seeing her in the company of the Arishok some years back.   He thought at first that may be Chroix wasn’t the only Qunari agent among us.”

            “I know why he didn’t question Fenris or me but what about you?”

            Lauren gave a broad grin. “He says that I have a beautiful soul and my goodness shines through.   It’s flattery of course but he really can tell; that’s why he’s the Phantom. That side of him though is when he wears the mask, because he needs to be fey and dangerous when dealing with their enemies. He promised me that when he’s not wearing the mask, it’ll just be him I’m seeing and he won’t be using his special powers.”

            Enavir smiled.   Clearly they would not have to worry about disappointed love upsetting the equilibrium of their alliance.

            “What about now?” said Enavir, as the two combatants started to face off on the sparing ground, “He’s not wearing a mask.”

            “Now?” Lauren quickly appraised the situation and gave murmur of derision. “Now, he’s just showing off.”

            “So do you suppose he is going to fight without any magic at all?”

            Fenris shrugged. “Nothing would surprise me where a Dreamer is concerned.   Whatever the case, this is going to be nothing if not educational.”

            They returned their collective attention to the action. When the signal was given to begin, the two combatants circled one another warily.   Enavir formed the impression that in the case of Feynriel he was wasn’t focussing directly on Isabella with his eyes but was concentrating his thoughts, whereas with Isabela she was genuinely being cautious whilst she assessed just how much of a threat he posed. Eventually she decided to go on the offensive but Feynriel evaded her attack before countering it with one of his own, each time a split second from either side making contact.    

            They went back to circling before Isabela attacked once more. This time Feynriel deflected her blade with his right arm, before chopping at her right arm with his left, once again just a fraction too slow to make contact. Gradually the speed of the contest increased and the amount of time between each exchange reduced. It was as though they were engaged in an intricate dance their movements were so fluid and synchronised. Neither spoke, though their breathing became increasingly laboured, whilst the spectators stopped giving any verbal encouragement lest they broke the concentration of the two fighters, merely uttering gasps from time to time at the length and intensity of the rallies.

            Finally, when it seemed like the fight would go on forever, Feynriel was a split second quicker with his attack or Isabela withdrew her hand a fraction too slow. Whatever the case, he managed to slice across her arm and rotate it in such a way that one knife flew clear, parried the other arm to render the knife in it harmless and then whilst her attention was on his arms, suddenly swung his leg round, chopping her legs from under her. Isabela landed flat on her back and Feynriel followed up by going down on one knee beside her with his hand across her neck.

            “My win I think,” he said lightly before rising back to his feet and holding out his hand to Isabela. Instantly she yanked him forward, wrapped her legs round his and flipped him over on to his back, whilst she straddled him, holding her knife to his throat in turn.

            “First rule of an engagement, Dreamer boy, never let your guard down on your opponent, until you know they’re dead.”

            There was a moment of silence while everyone held their breath wondering how he would react.   Then Feynriel gave a slowly widening smile.

            “Criticism duly noted.”

            “Here endeth the lesson,” she grinned back and blew him a kiss, before jumping back to her feet, turning and bowing to the audience. “Do you people have anything alcoholic because I could really do with a drink?”

            Fenris glanced at Enavir with a grin. “She’s back.”

            Feynriel joined her.   “Drinks all round.   The local brew is made of fermented palm sap.   We call it Toddi.”

            Isabela nodded her appreciation and followed the locals to where it was dispensed, surrounded by her jubilant crew.   As Feynriel started to follow, Enavir moved to prevent him and raised his eyebrows.

            “Not so reckless now with your use of the Fade now?” He queried.   “I’ve a notion there was more to your fighting prowess than meets the eye.”

            Feynriel gave an appreciative nod. “You never know what you are capable of until you try.   It seemed a better idea to do so when my life wasn’t on the line.”

            “That was your first time?” Fenris couldn’t hide his scepticism.

            “First time with an actual human opponent,” he agreed with a grin. “It was a novel experience.”

            “I’m surprised you wanted to risk your reputation,” said Enavir.

            “You of all people should know how unwise it is to appear infallible. I’ve no wish to be worshipped as a false god.   Come on, let’s join the party.”

            At that moment the crystal started to vibrate.   Enavir immediately started to move away from the others. Of course it was now day ten, so Dorian was entitled to contact him but it was unusual for him to do so at this time of day.  

            “Amatus!”

            The tone and volume of Dorian’s word to activate the crystal indicated that he was about to take issue with him over something.   Enavir guessed that Hawke must have finally arrived in Minrathous.  

            “You three carry on.   I’ll be with you shortly,” he called without looking back.

            He walked away quickly to a more secluded spot, replying as he did so in a tone of innocent surprise.

            “Ma Sa’lath?”

            “Kaffas!”

            “That’s my line.” Enavir was finding it hard not to laugh.

            “Oh yes, I’m sure you think you’ve been very amusing,” Dorian said with classic sarcasm. “When you said you’d surprise me, I thought you were planning on something ridiculously romantic, like climbing over my balcony at midnight; not heading off somewhere mysterious with Fenris and without Cillian.”

            “Is it really possible to climb over your balcony after dark?   Only I’d do something about that if I were you, it’s a security risk.   Good job Hawke’s there to act as bodyguard.”

            “Bodyguard, my arse!”

            “Well that _is_ a part of your body I’ve a vested interest in,” Enavir gave a short laugh before continuing in more serious tone, “It’s funny but I’d have thought you’d be more worried about where I am, not who I’m with.”

            “What?” Dorian dropped the sarcastic tone instantly. “Of course I'm not bothered you're with Fenris.   Where exactly are you?”

            “Seheron.”

            “As in the hell hole that any Magister with sense would bribe, blackmail or simply kill not to be posted there?”

            “That’s right.”

            “Maker, you really are insane.”

            “I don’t know why you’re so insistent on calling into question my sanity.”

            “You seem very blasé about the whole thing; I can’t believe you’re finding it that easy and only a madman would have so little regard for the danger.”

            “Actually it’s rather a nice place. The climate is good, the scenery beautiful and the natives a delight. I thought we might retire here in our old age.   Just need to get rid of all the pesky Qunari and Tevinter invaders first.”

            “You’re joking, right?” Dorian sounded doubtful.

            “Ask Hawke, this has been my plan ever since you left.   Now you realise why I couldn’t tell you, seeing as how your Archon isn’t going to be pleased when he discovers it has been liberated from him as well as the Oxmen.”

            “Okay, I’ll play along.   Just how are you going to manage that all on your own?”

            “I’m not alone; I’ve got Fenris and Lauren, plus Admiral Isabela. You’d like her.”

            “That’s most reassuring,” the sarcasm was creeping back in.

            “And a whole host of Fog Warriors.”

            “I’m still not convinced.”

            “Plus our secret weapon.”

            “Which is?”

            “It wouldn’t be a secret if I told you.

            “Amatus,” Dorian said in a mildly threatening way. “This is ceasing to be funny.”

            “All right, let’s just say that Hawke can stop looking for Feynriel and thankfully he’s on our side.

            “Feynriel?   As in the kid that Hawke saved that she claimed was a Somniari?”

            “He _is_ a Somniari and he most definitely does _not_ approve of Solas’ plan, so it looks like I’ve finally found something to help in the fight against him.   However, first things first, we need to liberate Seheron to free him up to concentrate on the Dread Wolf.   So this is the heads up you asked for. However, I’d be grateful if you didn’t mention Feynriel to anyone other than Hawke. He’s been the target of ambitious Magisters before now, which is why he needed to disappear, and has some interesting insights into the reason why magic isn’t as strong among you Altus as it used to be.   He’s been safe on Seheron up to now. I’d like to keep it that way.”

            “You can trust me, Amatus.”

            “Fenris sends his love by the way.   At least he would if I let him.   I’m thinking it might be a nice gesture if we let Hawke and him exchange a few words next time we talk.   We’re not the only lovers separated by distance.”

            “If that’s what you want, you know I can deny you nothing.” Slight sarcasm was re-emerging, suggesting he was still annoyed with Enavir rather than the suggestion.

            “Okay, I know I shouldn’t have been so secretive but I was afraid that you’d want to go with me and that would have been dangerous for you.   They really don’t like Tevinter.”

            “So they don’t know about me then?”

            “Actually they do.   Chroix told them before they killed him.   He _was_ the Qunari agent and he did get a message through to his superiors that nearly dropped us in it with the Qunari.”

            “So you _have_ been in danger.”

            “Nothing more than we’ve been in before.   If you could get a message off to Josmael confirming his suspicions and putting his mind at rest about me, I’d be grateful.”

            “So what happens next?”

            “I’m not sure.   We’re waiting on Feynriel to reveal his plans.   Don’t worry, I’ll keep you posted.”

            “You’d better.   I don’t want to spend any more time without you, even if it is only at the end of a crystal.”

            Enavir gave a grin to himself.   “You mean you’re missing me?”

            “Kaffas, you know I do. There now, I’ve admitted it, are you satisfied?”

            “I love you too.” Enavir assured him. “I’ll call again this evening.”

 

 


	17. Chapter 17

            When Enavir returned to his companions he found them preparing to enjoy an early lunch to go with the Toddi.   There was a generally good mood among the whole company and it seemed to him that when not in conflict with their enemies, the natives of Seheron had a relaxed, easy going attitude, much given to jokes and banter.

            There was a variety of food on display, much of it fruit based but also sweet potatoes, corn and something they called quinoa.   He was assured this latter food stuff gave their warriors great stamina and was a gift of Nahar especially to their people. What seemed to be missing was the wild pig or jungle fowl that Fenris had claimed was common to their dishes.  

            “That would be down in the jungle below,” explained Feynriel.   “Up here the wildlife is different and besides it is considered bad fortune to take the life of any creature on holy ground.   I am grateful for that; I find the death of any creature painful.   It is the price I pay for my close connection to my friends.”

            “What about all those Qunari you killed?”

            “I did not do it personally and our methods ensure the death is swift and bloodless where possible.   That minimises the effect on me and the land generally.   May be that is another thing they learned at the feet of the elves, the Way of the Arrow.”

            “Be swift and silent. Strike true and do not waiver. And let not your prey suffer.”

            “Exactly,” nodded Feynriel. “And the Way of the Wood as well.   ‘Receive the gifts of the hunt with mindfulness. Respect the sacrifice of my children. Know that your passing shall nourish them in turn’.”

            Enavir smiled. “I see you have not forgotten your time with the Dalish.   It is a pity that Andruil now seems less benign than we thought.”

            “You have said it yourself in the past; nature can be harsh as well as beautiful. She was a Creator in the beginning just not at the end. In any case, you have let Fen’Harel poison your mind as the Evanuris warned would be the case. There is much we do not know but my people feel they owe a great debt to the elves of old and would not have survived until now without the lessons they learned from them.   Those that did are remembered as heroes so I would not be too swift to denigrate our ancestors in their hearing.”

            “You sound like my mother when I expressed my doubts.   She said I should not be too hasty to condemn or lose my faith because of his words.”

            “And yet in a way you did. Still you have found something you can believe in and that is good. To my mind there is no one truth that has been revealed. Only bits of truth half remembered throughout Thedas by the descendants of those who experienced the events.   This is neither the fault of those in the past, nor those in the present.   It is just the nature of myths and legends.   That said; I believe that there are places where the truth can be found and some people know more than they care to admit.”

            “Do you have any clues as to where that might be?”

            “On this island for one, but also in Minrathous.   Your Dorian is looking in the wrong place though if he is studying in the national archives.”

            “I think he has been looking in the Circle as well but he had to be careful not to arouse suspicion.”

            “The Circle is the second oldest building in the city and you would think that as the former Temple to Razikale it would be the place to look for secrets but there is another place where I believe the oldest records can be found, the Chantry Cathedral of the Black Divine that was built over the foundations of the ruined Temple of Dumat.”

            “Surely if it was ruined, any records would have been lost?”

            “Not those kept underground in the vaults that were sealed with magic.”

            “How do you know this?”

            “Looking and listening when I was there, plus asking questions. I had to be careful though, that I did not attract too much interest with my enquiries.   Luckily they just took me for a gauche foreigner and humoured me. Corypheus seemed to know things about the past from long before his time and he was once priest of that temple.”

            “He told his lieutenants he gained the knowledge from the orb.”

            “I think that highly unlikely.   The orb was merely a focus for magical power.   There are secrets in the depths of Minrathous, I’m sure of it.   There is a link between the rise of Tevinter and the fall of the elves.   They may not have brought it about but they sure as hell seem to have benefited from it. It seems odd to me that Corypheus should have had such an obsession with elven artefacts unless he knew that knowledge stolen from the ruins of the elves had elevated them in the past.   I think those currently in power know it too. The Black Divine guards those secrets well but I’ve heard that some favoured few have been granted access by him, Aurelian Titus for one.”

            “That can’t be right.   I’ve heard the Black Divine opposed him vigorously.”

            “In public,” Feynriel gave derisive laugh and called out. “Hey, Fenris, tell Enavir something. If the Black Divine really wanted someone out of the way, what would be the result?”

            “They’d be dead,” Fenris answered flatly.

            Feynriel smiled back at Enavir in smug fashion.   Enavir remembered what Dorian had said about the Black Divine casually leaving an Imperial Ball early in order to undertake an assassination personally and started to feel a cold chill running up his spine.

            “You’re saying that the Black Divine _could_ be behind this dragon cult we’ve been fighting?”

            “I’m saying nothing; you’ve simply put the pieces together in your head and reached a conclusion.   However, I wouldn’t necessarily disagree with it but you couldn’t act on it without proof.   That would be very dangerous indeed for anyone who attempted it.   Divine Urian is definitely not a holy man but that is probably true of most Divines.”

            “Not Divine Victoria, I’ll give her that.”

            “An ex spy master? You surprise me.”

            “Whatever she may have been in her past, she genuinely believes and she is trying to make the Chant a reality in the south in practice not just in theory. That was not a popular move among the hierarchy of the Chantry or the nobility.”

            “So why didn’t you stay and support her?”

            “You know why not, you have seen my memories.   Do you think I was wrong?”

            “No, I understand why you would not want be to the answerable to the Divine.   Nobody lives forever and who knows what her successor might be. I think you should never have let the nobility of those two nations back you against the wall in the first place.   Why was it their place to decide?   It should have been put to the people.   Did they still want an Inquisition?   I think they would have made a resounding ‘yes’.   Then let the nobles try to remove you.”

            “Andraste had the support of the common people, yet that didn’t prevent her betrayal and death.”

            “That is true.   Still how do you know she didn’t let it happen?”

            “What?” The idea truly took Enavir by surprise.       

            “Let the blade pass through the flesh, let my blood touch the ground, let my cries touch their hearts. Let mine be the last sacrifice.” Feynriel intoned reverently, before looking back at Enavir. “Andraste 7, supposedly based on her conversations with the Maker before she began her crusade, or possibly during it.   You forget I lived in Kirkwall and the inhabitants of the alienage were politely encouraged to attend the Chantry on a regular basis in order that we could be saved. After hearing the same words repeated times beyond counting you tend to remember them if nothing else.”

            “So you’re saying that Andraste wanted to be a martyr?”

            “Once again, I say nothing, I merely make an observation. Many lives were saved by allowing herself to be taken when she did.”

            “Dorian said the same thing.”

            “I don’t recall that in your memories.”

            “You said to leave out the personal ones.”

            “Ah, I see.   I just find it hard to believe that she could be so easily tricked. Would the Maker not have warned her?   Would she not have discovered it?   She was a Dreamer you know.”

            Once again, Enavir’s mouth dropped open in astonishment at the revelation.   Feynriel laughed at his surprise.

            “Come on, surely you must have suspected it, even from the southern Chantry’s edited histories.   Tevinter though pulls no punches on the matter.   Andraste was a mage and a Dreamer.   Why do you suppose they burned her?”

            “Not to give her a painful death?” Enavir raised his eyebrows with a slight smile.

            “Please, there’s any number of ways they could have accomplished it.   However, a spirit cannot return to a body that’s in ashes, nor can another occupy the corpse in its place to give the impression of a soul conquering death.   A public burning ensured that Andraste could not return and no one would believe it if she did.   However, she still conquered the hearts and minds of the crowd assembled there, as did Shartan’s bold bid to rescue her.   You had it right all along Enavir, they breached the gates of Minrathous together but not in the manner that people expected, just as she had asked in her prayer to the Maker.”

            “Except hers was not the last sacrifice.”

            “Sadly, no,” Feynriel said sombrely before brightening a little and declaring. “But the cause has been taken up by a new Liberator so there is hope for us yet.”

            Enavir chuckled. “I’m not sure I’m cut out for martyrdom.”

            “You came here with your eyes wide open about the possibility of betrayal, not willing to risk anyone else without them being given forewarning and when it happened, you defied your assailants with a challenge of utter bravado.   I think you’ve more than a little of the martyr in you.   Thankfully it would seem Nahar has other ideas.”

            “So why do you think I was guided to you?”

            “Beyond the fact that a Dreamer would be very helpful in stopping Fen’Harel?”   Feynriel looked thoughtful.   “I think change is going to happen, is necessary even, but that doesn’t mean to say it can’t happen on our terms.   The old order is corrupt and decaying, though they do not wish to admit it to themselves, and the world is dying along with them. We need a rebirth and renewal of the world, of civilisation and ideas about governing it but that does not mean it has to follow the wholesale destruction of creation. That would just send everything to the Void as the powers there want it to be.   We must reconnect with the Wellspring and undo the mistakes of the past.”

            “The Blight included?”

            “The Blight in particular, though it does not trouble us here.   The problem is that people do not understand the meaning behind many of Andraste’s words and have been too willing to listen to other people’s prophesies.”

            “Like Drakon’s?”

            “Among others,” Feynriel nodded. “The Order of Fiery Promise believed that the world was so corrupt that it could only be cleansed with fire and then start again from scratch. They existed before Drakon, so far as I can tell, so they must have based their ideas off some saying of Andraste, probably as he did. The Hero of Ferelden had to pass through fire to reach the ashes of Andraste.   Before they did so, she and her companions had to shed all the worldly possessions, even their clothes. Then only if their hearts were worthy would then pass through the flames unharmed. Everything in the Gauntlet was about their spiritual strength and their willingness to trust their faith would bring them safely through to the end.”

            “I’m sorry, your point is?”

            “In your hearts shall burn an unquenchable flame, all consuming, never satisfied. From the Fade I crafted you. To the Fade you shall return each night in dreams, that you may always remember me. Threnodies 5, verse 5. The cleansing fire that is needed is not a physical one but the fire of longing in our hearts for the Wellspring and a love for creation.   Those that use the sacrifice of blood for their own power, whether in warfare, punishment of those whose oppose their corruption or magical ritual, have only dead ashes in their hearts, a gateway to the Void, and they are what speeds us to our doom.   As for the Qunari, they deny the existence of the Wellspring and forbid their followers to even seek a connection.   They think their ordered existence is the answer to our problems but it only makes it worse.   It is those cultures on the fringes that offer us the best hope, the Avvar, the Rivaini and the Fog People, who have struggled down the years to maintain their independence from the corruption of the imperialists.”

            “Not the Dalish?”

            “The true Dalish, like the clans of Sabrae and Lavellan but from what you have heard, not all are faithful to the old ways.   In any case, I was speaking of the human cultures since they are far more numerous and therefore can do far more damage.   These ancient fringe societies have elements in common with the Dalish, whilst having interpreted them in keeping with their own traditions.”

            “Such as?”

            “The Avvar have Augurs, the Rivaini have Seers, the Dalish have Keepers and my people have the Fog Dancers.   Each of these has a leadership role in their society without lording it over them.   They are the repository of wisdom for their people to consult and will advise them as to the best course to take.   They guard the lore of their people and have a duty to preserve it and pass it on to the next generation.   All are mages but they serve their people and never abuse their power, as the Wellspring says should be the case.   However magic first entered the world, these cultures understand how it should be used.”

            “What about the dwarves?”

            “They have the Stone and the Ancestors, where we have the Wellspring and spirits.”

            “It’s not the same.”

            “Why not? The Rivani seers teach that the world and their god are the same.   The Stone seems to occupy a similar place in the culture of the dwarves.   You have discovered a connection between the Titans and lyrium. That also links back the Wellspring and the Fade. As for the Ancestors, do they not consult with them just as the human sages do with spirits?   That seems close enough to me. They don’t have mages but they do have people who work the stone and lyrium in enchantments.   That’s what I meant by saying we all have bits of the truth and if you step back a little, studying the similarities rather than what divides us, you discover we are all not so very different.”

            “So it is just the Chantry that is out of step?”

            “They have some elements of the truth.   After all they have not entirely forgotten Andraste and have preserved much of her teaching.   They’ve just interpreted it all wrong. That goes for Tevinter as well as the south.”

            “Where does that leave us then?”

            “With the basis for common ground that we can agree on for uniting in defence of our world and then ensuring that everyone benefits if we succeed.”

            “Lovely sentiments I’ll admit but what about the realities?   The Dread Wolf has his own ideas on the future of the world and your island is still occupied by the Qunari.”

            “You are correct; we have indulged in idle chatter long enough, follow me.”

            With that Feynriel got to his feet and led the way across the settlement to another cave entrance at the base of the mountain at the far end.   Fenris hurried after them.

            “Is this a private party or can I come too?”

            “By all means,” Feynriel gave a gracious nod.

            With that he entered the cave mouth.   Unlike his quarters, there was no chamber but simply a complex of tunnels and roughly hewn stairways, leading both up and down. He followed a route that climbed steadily upwards until it finally emerged onto a wide viewing platform at the summit.   From here they could look out over a wide expanse of the island and far off Enavir thought he could even see the faint glint of the sun on the sea. Nearer to them the fog ringed the plateau like a crown.

            “This is our sanctuary,” said Feynriel. “Most of the people here are not active combatants, brought here for their own safety.   The fog protects them from intruders. Out there in the jungle across the island are our main forces awaiting my signal to drive out the Qunari wherever they exist. I have two problems that I need to solve before I commit them.   Foremost of these is Qunathras. It is heavily fortified and from there it is possible for them to send reinforcements to bolster their troops on Seheron now and in the future.   It has always been their gateway to the region, both here and on the mainland. It needs to be destroyed utterly and I do not believe that even my magic is capable of it.”

            “I can help with that,” said Fenris.   “I have the means but I really don’t know how to get it there.   Do you have ships?”

            “They would be no use to us even if we did.   Our ships would be no match for their dreadnoughts.   What are you proposing to use?”

            “A little recipe that I believe resembles their gaatlok, so much so that they tried to assassinate the man who invented it.   I was talking to your people and it would seem that the ingredients I need can be found in quantity on the seat of Nahar.   If you can get us over there without being seen, I can level the fortress for you.”

            “Excellent,” nodded Feynriel.   “The other problem is Tevinter.   I don’t want them trying to capitalise on the situation by trying to retake the island themselves. Their methods tend to be barbaric and brutal. I have the means to keep them off initially but long term we need a diplomatic solution so we aren’t thrust back into the same situation we have endured for the last two thousand years.   That, I believe, is where you come in, Enavir.   Find a way to persuade the Archon and the Magisterium to leave us alone to govern ourselves.”

            “You don’t ask much do you?”

            “You managed it with Arlathan; I’m sure you can come up with something, or perhaps your Dorian can.”

            “I’ll do my best.” Enavir imagined what Dorian’s reaction would be when he told him. “It’s a pity we don’t have the means of getting here easily, like an eluvian or some such. Then we might be able to supply extra troops to act as a deterrent should Tevinter not take the hint.     From what I’ve seen of the maps though, the strait between here and Tevinter is narrow enough they could be here in less than a day, whereas even with the best ships in the Felicisima Armada we couldn’t do it in less than three and by then you could be overrun.”

            “I think I may have the solution to both your dilemmas.   Tell me, Enavir, didn’t your friend tell you there was a fable in Wycome about Garahel and flying aravels?”

            “Yes, but it was just a fanciful story.”

            Feynriel gave an enigmatic smile and turned to the north and held out his arms.

            “Behold the Sky Hunters.”

            To the north was a series of mountain peaks stretching off into the distance, the summits partially obscured by mist.   Enavir starred in their direction and discerned a faint speck in the distance over the farthest one he could discern.   As he strained to see, another speck appeared and then another, gradually growing larger as they moved in their direction. Before long he could clearly discern wings flapping up and down in unison with one another, even though the birds were still some miles distant.   As they closed on their position, it was noticeable how silent the wing beats were, though much of the time the birds just glided on the wind.  

            The enormous birds were great eagles, with brindled feathers of black, brown, grey and white, which circled their position, giving loud cries of greeting, to which Feynriel responded with a similar cry of his own.   They hovered briefly in the air before coming into land in flurry of wings and feathers that nearly swept Enavir and Fenris from their feet.   Feynriel immediately moved to greet each one in turn, stroking the top of their head, which they lowered level with his face for that purpose and flattened their tufted heads, eyes half closed with pleasure. Enavir judged they were around ten feet from beak to tail.

            “The Fog Dancers say that the griffons of the Grey Wardens came from Seheron. If they did, then the Sky Hunters were probably their ancestors. The griffons are a hybrid, formed by magic I would guess, but these birds are native to the mountains of the north, where they grow larger than their southern cousins. Like griffons they normally chose whom they will allow on their backs but they are willing to make an exception for my sake.   Shall we dance?”

            With that one of the eagles held out a talon, which Feynriel used to hop lightly on to its back and settled down into the feathers with his legs dangling just in front of the wings either side of its powerful neck.     He looked down challengingly at his two companions.

            “Well, what are you waiting for?”

            “Don’t we need a saddle of some sort?” Enavir tried not to let his trepidation show in his voice.

            “Or are you trying to get us killed?” Fenris looked equally aghast at the idea.

            “Have you no faith?” Feynriel gave a wild laugh. “If you don’t trust me to look after you now, how will our alliance fair in the future?”

            With that his bird hopped forward off the platform, spread its wings and lifted into the air.   The warm currents helped it to soar steadily upwards, where it circled their position and rose even higher, then banked to the left and dropped sharply back down again, before hovering over their position just above the head height of the other two eagles, exchanging a strange laugher like, staccato call with them.   Feynriel cocked his head on one side as he surveyed his companions.

            “So are you coming or not? I’d just get them to pick you up in their talons and carry you but it would be rather undignified being dangled from their claws.”

            “Damn it,” said Fenris. “I always knew a mage would be the death of me but I never thought it would be like this.”

            With that he took the proffered talon and climbed up on the eagle’s back, slipping one side and then the other before settling into a similar position to Feynriel.

            “Grab hold of the feathers on his neck,” he advised. “They’re attached pretty well, so they shouldn’t come lose so long as you’re only using them to steady yourself.”

            Fenris did as advised but still didn’t look entirely comfortable with his situation.   Nevertheless it didn’t escape his notice that Enavir still hadn’t taken the plunge.

            “Come on, Enavir, what are you waiting for?   “It is only when you leap that you’ll discover if you can fly.   Something Flemeth once said to us, or was it Mythal?”

            That was sufficient provocation to goad him into action.

            “Blast you, Fenris,” he said with feeling, before clambering aboard his own bird.

            The initial take-off from the ground was the worst part as the eagle needed to exert greater effort to get in the air, which rippled its muscles beneath him and rocked him back and forth with its wings.   Once in the air, the bird allowed the warm air currents to do most of the work and the flight became smoother, until eventually it dispensed with wing beats altogether and just seemed to float on the breeze.   At that point Enavir stopped gripping on so tightly with legs and hands, instead relying on his natural sense of balance, and started to enjoy the ride.   A tentative glance showed him the ground was far below.   He decided it would be expedient to concentrate on the clouds that surrounded them in small wisps.

            “Aren’t they magnificent?” Feynriel called across to his companions, with a rapturous look on his face.   “This is true freedom.”

            With that he stretched out his arms to either side of him, closed his eyes and threw back his head.   Enavir hesitated for a moment before throwing caution to the winds and following suit.   The sensation was exhilarating and for a moment he almost thought he was a bird himself.     The faint cry of his bird stirred him back to reality. He opened his eyes to see Feynriel, eyes open once more, signalling to him and Fenris.

            “Now let’s see if you can really fly.”

            With that his eagle dropped in a plummeting dive straight down and his fellows followed suit. Enavir could hear Fenris cursing off to one side but he felt strangely calm even though his stomach seemed to jump inside him.   The birds levelled off just above the top of the mountains and flew in formation, Feynriel in the centre a knowing smile on his face as he glanced at them to gauge their reaction.   Enavir could see that Fenris was as enthralled he was, unable to maintain his normal stoic demeanour in the face of such an experience. Even if being able to ride the eagles was not essential to the success of their mission, Enavir would have been grateful to Feynriel for simply enabling it.  

            After making a couple of circuits of their immediate mountain top, Feynriel brought them back into land. Both Fenris and Enavir were afflicted with jelly legs as they lowered themselves to the ground and had to lean against their bird briefly until they recovered. Feynriel, though, seemed unaffected but waited patiently until they were ready and then dismissed their mounts.

            “Thank you for your time, my friends. Rest and eat well until I have need of you again.”

            They watched in silence as the eagles lifted off and flapped elegantly off into the distance, before Enavir turned to Feynriel.

            “So that’s how you managed to seemingly be in two places at once. I had thought you were using eluvians.”

            “Instead I had the power of flight and no magical artefacts or passwords are needed.”

            “We still need you to command them,” Fenris pointed out.

            “Given time I think it might be possible to train other people to bond with them. The Grey Wardens used to do as much with the griffons and very few of them were mages, even less Dreamers I should imagine.”

            “But you said the griffons themselves were the products of magic; maybe that was the key to it all,” suggested Enavir.

            “That is certainly true of the mabari,” said Fenris. “Their intelligence is said to be owing to their origins in Tevinter where they were originally bred.   If the Tevinter mages were responsible for creating the griffons that would explain their abilities.”

            “I don’t think so,” said Feynriel. “I think the griffons came from much further back in history before Tevinter even existed.”

            “That’s true, they were shown being given to Andruil by Ghilan’nain on that mural in the underground city, do you remember Fenris?”

            “Yes, I do now you come to mention it.   Still that means it was still magic that created them.   The same was true of the halla, so that could account for their close connection with the elven clans.”

            “I think it was just magic enhancing a gift that was already there if people only worked on using it,” said Feynriel. “It’s just that magic is an easy short cut for those who have neither the patience nor the sensitivity required.”

            “I won’t argue with that,” said Fenris.

            They returned to the settlement and started making plans for the liberation of Seheron.

            “How long will it take you to gather the ingredients you need?” asked Feynriel.

            “It depends really, do you want me to absolutely obliterate the place or just weaken it sufficiently that nature can take its course?”

            “The latter will do.”

            “Well, if your people are correct, I may be able to find sufficient in a day, two at the outside.”

            “I could help speed things up,” suggested Enavir.

            “I’d rather you worked with Swiftwing,” said Feynriel. “Try to bond with him.”

            “Is that possible?”

            “I’ve already said that I think it is.   You have a sensitive nature and have already succeeded in bonding with a spirit. Swiftwing is mourning the loss of his mate in the winter.   It will do him good to have something else to focus on.    I will call him back this evening and you can spend some time flying together.”

            The rest of the day was spent briefing the rest of his party and preparing for the coming assault.   Lauren seemed unsurprised when informed about what they had been doing earlier in the afternoon and confessed that she had already been given a ride on one of the Sky Hunters but Feynriel had made her promise not to tell anyone.  

            “Did you enjoy it?”

            “It was wonderful,” she said, her eyes animated with the memory of it. “I hardly need tell you how it is.   Isn’t he amazing, to be able to do that?”

            “Yes, he is,” Enavir chuckled, no longer surprised how easily Feynriel had won her over.”

            Dorian called him earlier in the evening than was customary.

            “I thought I’d call in early, only we’ve been summoned, I mean _invited_ for dinner at the Archon’s palace.   He wants to meet Hawke.”

            “That was quick, she’s only just arrived.”

            “News travels fast in this place, you’d be surprised.   It’s not an official state banquet you must understand, that would take far more arranging. Just a cosy little affair for him to size her up before the rest of the Magisterium gets in on the act.   I am just invited for courtesy’s sake since she is staying in my house.”

            Enavir felt sure that Dorian was playing down his own importance in the evening but didn’t press the issue.

            “Would Fenris like a word with Hawke, only I’ve got her here with me?”

            “Yes, he would, I’ll just get him.”

            Enavir left Fenris alone to enjoy a few private intimacies with his lady love, after which he handed back the crystal.

            As the sun began to dip beneath the horizon he made his way back up to the aerial platform. Feynriel was already waiting with Swiftwing.

            “He is willing to do as I suggested. So stay out for as long as it takes. You will experience life from his perspective. If the bonding is successful you should be able to get him to change direction by just thinking where you wish to go.”

            Enavir nodded his understanding, mounted the bird and they rose into the sky.


	18. Chapter 18

            Enavir shared the life of the eagle as he floated across the evening sky, searching the ground below, hunting for food. He sensed the intensity of interest in a particular area and the bunching of muscles just before the bird launched into a dive, then pulled up just before the ground with talons outstretched ready to make the kill.   It was a wild jungle pig such a Fenris had mentioned and the eagles struck so quickly his action instantly snapped its neck.

            Then he carried it back to his earie, dropping it as though for later consumption.   Instead he landed and hopped around making soft chirruping noises that seemed to express a wistful sadness to Enavir, before dropping his beak to the ground and remaining motionless with his eyes closed. Enavir guessed that in years gone by his mate would have been there, sitting their eggs and eager to partake of the kill.   He reached out a hand sympathetically and gently stroked the back of his head.  

“It can’t be easy, I know,” he said quietly. “I miss my mate too but at least I will see him again and can keep in contact with him.   I’m sorry for your loss.”

            Swiftwing lifted his head and turned it towards Enavir as his eyes blinked open. Then he nudged him gently with his beak and gave a different sound, that expressed gratitude.   After this the eagle stood up and seemed to stretch, spreading his wings before starting to preen his feathers.   Enavir remembered reading that griffons appreciated help with this and did his best to assist, his nimble fingers helping to smooth and knit the barbs into place.   They spent the best part of an hour at the work, after which Swiftwing gave a sneeze, shook his head and folded his wings once more.   He nudged the pig towards Enavir and cocked his head on one size questioningly.

            “No, I’m not hungry at present, thank you all the same,” Enavir nodded. “But don’t let that stop you.”

            Swiftwing gave a shake of his head and held out a talon, inviting Enavir to remount onto his back.   Once he was in place, Swiftwing launched himself back into the sky and they continued to circle the mountains of central Seheron.   Gradually Enavir started to feel a connection and experimented with asking Swiftwing to change direction.   He felt a thrill when the bird responded.   After that it became easier, until it was almost instinctive and he barely had to concentrate at all on maintaining the bond.   It was both an exhilarating and yet humbling experience to have achieved that degree of trust with the bird. They continued flying together for the rest of the night and the sun had just risen over the eastern horizon as Swiftwing circled to land on the mountain platform. Enavir could see Feynriel waiting to greet him, dressed once more in his Phantom clothing. After releasing Swiftwing to his rest, he turned back, examining Enavir with a penetrating intensity.

            “I hardly need to ask if it was successful, I can see it in your eyes.   However, try to relax now and put Swiftwing from your mind so you both can rest.   I need you fresh for the assault. We begin at sundown. You can use my cave.”

            With that he abruptly turned on his heel and vanished down the stairs.   Enavir felt an initial twinge of resentment in being ordered around but accepted that Feynriel was the one in charge and headed for the cave.   In fact, if he was honest with himself, he felt too shattered to do anything else.   Once he reached the cave, he collapsed gratefully onto the bed at the rear. He was vaguely aware of the sound of voices chanting rhythmically, accompanied by flutes and ocarina, which had a strangely soothing and relaxing effect on him, sending him into a deep and peaceful slumber.

            Some hours later, Lauren shook him awake.   The sound of the chanting could still be heard from outside. He sat up and she handed him a bowl of water.  

            “For you to freshen up,” she said kindly. “I’ve brought food and drink as well.”

            “What time is it?”

            “I’d guess around three to four hours after noon.   It’s hard to be precise.   Up here people only judge the time by whether it is sun rise, sun high, sun set, morning or afternoon.   So they would simply say the sun is mid-afternoon, meaning it is half way towards setting.”

            “I see.” Enavir doused his face with water and shook himself.   “That’s better, now I feel more alert.” He cocked his head on one side and listened. “Is that Fog Dancers?”

            “It’s the whole camp.   They started chanting at sun rise.   It is apparently a very auspicious day in their calendar which is why Iveani wanted to launch the assault this evening.”

            “Did he mention the name of the festival?”

            “He said something about the Day of the Sun.”

            Enavir sat up abruptly. “Summerday?”

            “Possibly but that’s a Chantry festival and that isn’t the religion here.”

            “No, it’s much older than the Chantry.   Ancient Tevinter dedicated it to Andoral, the goddess of unity.”

            “I thought Andoral was a god of slaves.”

            “That came later.   Originally she was associated with unity, marriage in particular. I suggested she might have been a fertility goddess.   They launched their final attack against Arlathan on that day.”

            “That sounds ominous, not auspicious so far as we are concerned.”

            Enavir thought about it for a moment. “Did Iveani say anything else about why he chose this day?”

            “He said the promise of Nahar is about to be fulfilled.”

            “The promise of freedom for the island, I would guess that means. He told me that Nahar is like an overlord god and probably their name for the Maker.   Certainly they also refer to him as the Wellspring as Andraste did.”

            “And in Chantry lore the symbol of the Maker is the sun.”

            Enavir smiled. “Iveani certainly knows how to use symbolism if nothing else.   The creator of the universe is about to drive out the godless Qun.”

            “Belief is a powerful thing,” Feynriel’s voice intruded.   He was standing in the entrance to the cave, the mask pulled down from his face. “Having a focus for that belief is important. You know some Tevinter scholars have suggested that the layout of the ancient structures on Par Vollen, that pre-date the Qun by many thousands of years, perfectly match the constellation Solium, that of the sun.   Whilst you were away, I sent messages to all the Qunari outposts, Seheron City and their headquarters on Qunathras: ‘Leave our land by sunset on the Day of the Sun or suffer the consequences’.”

            “Was that wise, putting them on their guard?”

            “I was giving them a chance to escape what is coming.   I warned the ordinary people to flee as well.   There is no way they can defend against the power of Nahar.” He closed his eyes and his voice intoned deeply. “Those who oppose thee shall know the wrath of heaven. Field and forest shall burn. The seas shall rise and devour them.   The wind shall tear their nations from the face of the earth. Lighting shall rain down from the sky.”

            He opened his eyes and gave a confident smile.

            “Those were the words of the Maker to Andraste,” objected Enavir.

            “No, those words are the Promise of Nahar.”

            Fenris appeared in the doorway alongside Feynriel.

            “My materials are complete.   I’ve mixed the substances together inside coconut shells and placed those in the nets you provided.   I have to say though that it is going to be a risky business transporting them.”

            “Why do you suppose I suggested the nets?   You dangle them from your eagles at a sufficient distance that if they do accidentally explode our birds shall not be harmed.   Then when you’re over Qunathras you will release them.”

            “They may not explode even with the jolt of impact and I’d rather try and place them in strategic positions beneath the walls before triggering them.”

            “I understand; the difficult part is going to be to use them at the optimum time and in the place where they will do most damage.   That is up to you and your companions.”

            “Won’t you be there?” Fenris and Enavir exchanged worried glances. “How will we control the birds?”

            “I have conveyed to them where they need to go. Swiftwing is now sufficiently imprinted on Enavir that he will respond to his mental commands, like up and down, left and right, hover and such like, if he visualises what he wants in his mind as well, and the other birds will follow his lead.”  

            Enavir found it disconcerting that Feynriel had such command of the situation and found the young dreamer both awe inspiring and a little intimidating.

            “Take refreshment while you can,” advised Feynriel. “Then be prepared to leave the moment I give the signal.   I’ll let Isabela know.”

            He replaced his mask and left the cave.

            “Is Isabela coming with us?” Enavir was surprised at the suggestion.

            “She insisted on it,” said Fenris. “I think she has an old score she wishes to settle with the Qunari or maybe she just wants in on the action.”

            “Iveani took her out on one of the eagles while you were asleep,” said Lauren. “She loved it.   Apparently it isn’t any more difficult or scary than trying to keep from being swept off the deck in a storm and twice as exhilarating.   Anyway, we’re both coming with you.”

            “Fair enough,” said Enavir. “I wonder if Isabela will be as keen when she realises she will be reliant on my connection with Swiftwing.”

            “She’ll trust to Iveani’s judgement on the matter, same as I do. If he says you can do it, then you can.”

            Enavir was glad someone had confidence in him as he was actually quite apprehensive about his ability to control the bird in the coming engagement.   Still it explained why Feynriel had insisted on him being clear headed for the task ahead.   He was determined to make a success of it.

            They all took refreshments as instructed and then started to prepare their gear for the enterprise. Fenris strapped his sword securely to his back, where it wouldn’t interfere with his control of the bird or its cargo.   He considered leaving it behind but couldn’t be sure they wouldn’t be involved in hand to hand combat at some point. He brought along some long burn fuses in case they were needed for his explosive devices.  Lauren and Isabela were both knife fighters, so their weapons presented no weight problems.   Enavir was more conflicted.   He had both Glandivalis and his bow.   Whilst he had been concentrating on improving his fighting technique with a sword in recent months, he was still the most accomplished among them as an archer. Previous experience had shown him that he was no match for a Qunari warrior in melee engagements, so he opted to bring the bow with him so any direct confrontations with the Qunari could be done at a distance.

            As the sun dropped towards the horizon Enavir had a brief conversation with Dorian.   Apparently the meeting with the Archon had gone well and he had approved Hawke’s request to use the Imperial archives for her research, so they had spent the day at the Minrathous Circle.

            Nothing had come to light yet but Dorian was confident that with the extra help he would be successful in finding something useful concerning the Blight.   Enavir was encouraged by the news and wished them success.   He felt constrained by the fact Feynriel had not given him permission, so could not reveal details of own adventure the previous night or the impending engagement with the Qun and hoped Dorian would not be suspicious at the lack of information on his side but luckily Dorian seemed not to notice and bid him adieu in high spirits.

            After this the group of them assembled at the entrance to the cave to the flying platform.   Below them the chanting briefly stopped and the dance area cleared. The musicians put away their flutes and ocarinas and replaced them with war drums.   The Phantom walked into the centre of the gathering, whilst a Fog Dancer placed themselves on each of the four points of the compass.   Then he raised his arms to the sky and sent loud cries heavenward in words that were incomprehensible to Enavir.

            “He is calling upon Nahar fulfil his promise,” explained Lauren. “He told me about this earlier.   Now the Fog Dancers will begin the March of Four Winds.   All over the island other groups of Fog Dancers will do the same.   Iveani will rise up on the wings of his sky hunter to be the focus for their magic.”

            The drummers started a steady rhythm and the Fog Dancers began their dance, chanting all the while in time with the music.   Feynriel left the circle and swiftly joined them at the mouth of the cave.

            “Come, it is time to go,” he said and led the way up to the platform.

            The eagles were already waiting for them.   Feynriel had apparently persuaded the birds to accept makeshift harnesses, both for their own security in staying aboard and to provide an anchor for the ropes holding the nets with Fenris’ exploding coconuts.   Once mounted they flew to where the nets awaited them and helpers on the ground took the end of the rope already clipped to the harness and hooked the other end on to a net. Each of the latter was provided with a draw string opening, that when loosened would allow the contents to be released.   This could be done either from the back of the bird or the ground.   As their eagles steadily mounted higher into the sky, the wind was already growing in intensity, swirling around them from all directions and buffeting the contents of their nets.

            “I must leave you now,” Feynriel called above its roar. “Over to you, Enavir.”

            As his eagle sped away from them in the direction of the north eastern coast, the violence of the wind seemed to follow him, much to Enavir’s relief.   Their birds at first flew south and then continued in an easterly direction, roughly following the ridge they had walked on their first few days on the island. As the sun set they neared the eastern end of the island. From their vantage point high in the sky they could look across to the north and see the expanse of Seheron City, its carefully ordered lines of houses in the Qunari style and a honeycomb like structure that Enavir took to be the main government building.   Beyond this was a tall tower, a remnant of the Tevinter era, now seemingly re-purposed as a lighthouse.

            Swiftwing adjusted his course without being asked slightly to the south and then started to circle over a smaller land mass lying to the east of the main island. In the dying light it was possible to identify the fortified keep of Qunathras at the western end of this land mass, the main harbour to the north and line upon line of low level buildings across the rest of the area.   From what Enavir knew of Qunathras, not only was it the military base for Seheron but also the headquarters of the Ben’Hassrath for the island, where all prisoners were taken for re-educating.   People from the mainland of Tevinter would be taken there for processing too as it was far closer than Par Vollen.   Feynriel was right about the strategic importance of both Seheron and Qunathras to any attempt by the Qunari on the mainland of Thedas.   It was hardly surprising how fiercely it had been fought over by Tevinter and the Qun.  

            Night deepened and clouds were starting to gather, covering the rising moon and thus their descent towards the ground.   They had studied plans of the fortress that Feynriel had constructed from investigations by his animals and knew they were looking for a drainage culvert that would take them under the walls. Luckily the cliff face was quite high at the western end so they could fly down level with the walls without dumping their cargo in the sea.   As they swooped around the western end, he spied a culvert discharging water and indicated as much to Fenris.

            Another advantage of the sheer cliff was that the Qunari were not worried about posting guards at regular intervals along the walls on this side of their keep and as the darkness deepened it was likely that all the watchmen on their towers would be able to discern would be a number of large birds circling the area if at all.   Enavir was able to bring his bird in close enough to confirm that the culvert would permit a person entry, if they didn’t mind wading through whatever sewage it was discharging.   There was a sufficiently wide rock shelf to one side to deposit a sack of coconut bombs, so Enavir lowered his own net into place and then Fenris shimmied down the rope attached to his bird onto his own net, then jumped across to release the hook on the rope attached to Swiftwing. Then Isabella did the same with her bird, this time using the trailing rope to follow her cargo to the ground, as she was to assist with deploying them. Fenris waved the birds clear and the two of them started transporting the contents into the culvert.  

            As Swiftwing led the other birds out across the sea to wait for their return, Enavir glanced northwards.   It was small wonder the Qunari were not concerned about anything to the south of their fortress as a lightning storm of incredible magnitude seemed to be building over the eastern archipelago to the Seheron mainland. The wind was now growing stronger once again, so it became increasingly hard for the birds to hold their position.   He was thankful when Fenris and Isabella finally reappeared and indicated they were ready to leave. They flew in and each grabbed the trailing rope from their own bird, hauling themselves back up.   Once atop the bird, Fenris held up his hand to indicate they had roughly ten minutes to get clear.     They continued to circle above the fortress looking for the building that the map had shown as the main gaatlok store.   Enavir was still trying to decide which of two it could be when the wind suddenly dropped altogether.   In the silence that followed, the clouds suddenly opened up illuminating the sea.

            The Qunari started to yell warnings to one another.   He thought they had been spotted but then realised they weren’t looking in their direction.   They were gazing out to the north-east transfixed.   Enavir looked in the same direction and at the same time, Lauren screamed in fear and awe.   A gigantic wall of water was approaching the island.   It built in height as it thundered towards them, the lightning storm travelling with it, within a great bank of black cloud rising to the heavens.   He had a strong feeling that they didn’t want to be there when it hit.

            Driving Swiftwing back straight over the fortress, he now felt sure of his target and indicated to Fenris to release his net over the building. The main gate to the keep faced northwards so he motioned Lauren to release the final net as they passed over it.   He then urged Swiftwing to bank left and out to sea to the south, with the other birds following.   They heard the explosions as the surface bombs went off, followed shortly after by the rumble of Fenris’ bombs under the structure and then an even bigger roar as the gaatlok store ignited, but they didn’t stop even to look back, just concentrated on getting as far out to sea as they could away from the path of the storm.

            Behind them they could hear the shrieking of the wind and the tumultuous thunder that sounded almost simultaneously with the flash of lightning, which they could see reflected in the lighter clouds ahead of them.     When the distance between the flash and thunder increased to seconds, Enavir felt it was safe to circle back to the north behind the storm clouds. Looking across they could see nothing of the coastline, only an impenetrable wall of darkness, and hear the booming sound moving further away from them. The deafening shriek of the wind also lessened, though it still roared from afar and whilst the sea churned, the crest and troughs in the waves were now more normal.

            “My god,” he heard Isabela exclaimed above the wind. “Where did he get the power for that?”

            “The wrath of Nahar, or the Maker, or whatever force controls nature.” Enavir called back.

            Enavir considered simply heading back to the Seat of Nahar by continuing to circle northwards behind the storm but they had been given a task to perform and he thought that perhaps they ought to wait in order to check how successful their mission had been. The main thrust of the storm appeared to continue south-westwards, with the storm surge dividing on reaching the mainland, either heading north-west across the coastal plain or around to the south-west across the Ventosus Straits towards the Alam Penisular.   He decided it would be safe to fly back south-west again towards Qunathras.

 

 


	19. Chapter 19

            The clouds dispersed over the eastern end of Seheron allowing the moon to illuminate the devastation that lay below.   As the eagles glided down to a lower level it was clear that little remained of the settlement on Qunathras.   The fortress was now just a mass of shattered stone, though whether Fenris’ bombs had any part to play in this was impossible to tell, and the rest of the island seemed to have been scoured clean of any structures.   Debris was littered across the ocean and the last remains of whatever dreadnoughts had occupied the harbour could be seen sinking beneath the waves.

            “If we fly over perhaps we can help any survivors,” suggested Lauren.

            “If anyone could have survived that,” Fenris responded feelingly.

            Nevertheless no one objected when Enavir continued to circle the islet.   If there was anybody in need of their help it was impossible to make them out in the dark water.   He continued their course northwards towards the area of Seheron City. The seaward city wall and the lighthouse had gone and the honey combe building was wrecked, whilst the careful lines of single storey dwellings had been swept away.  The wind that had driven the storm surge was starting to abate but the water was still moving inland under its own momentum, swamping everything in its path. The height of the land to the south-west formed a natural barrier that caused the water to naturally flow north-west across the coastal plain. Nothing could stand against it.  Behind was left a drowned landscape, still partially submerged, with the surface of the water occasionally broken by the skeletal remains of buildings and half submerged trunks of whatever trees had survived the deluge.  

            Enavir caught a glimpse of a solitary person clinging to one of the few trees that hadn’t been snapped like matchwood. It was a Qunari soldier, his weapons gone and most of his armour too.   Enavir brought Swiftwing low enough that he could grab the end of the rope dangling beneath them.   What Feynriel would make of him rescuing members of the enemy military was anyone’s guess but Enavir wasn’t about to refuse the man simple humanity. Fenris spotted a group of people who had climbed on the roof of a more substantial two storey building that was still standing, if barely, after the water had poured through its lower levels. A human male, a male and a female elf, they were likely Qunari converts or natives born and raised to follow the Qun.   Each was given a rope or the remains of a net to cling to and then he started to look for dry ground where he could deposit them while they searched for more survivors.

            Some way inland from the coast, Fenris called his attention to a low hill with a large building on the top.   It appeared as though the water had lapped around the perimeter of this but not overwhelmed it and somehow it seemed to have survived the carnage.   With the water receding, this now had a substantial enough area they could deposit their passengers.   Having done so, they went in search of further survivors of the flood.   They continued to do so until the first rays of dawn lit the eastern horizon.  

            By now the flood had abated still further in some areas so it was possible to walk across the muddy residue of the plain unaided.   Enavir decided the eagles had done enough, so they removed their harness and he thanked them for their assistance before dismissing them.   There was still no sign of Feynriel or any of the Fog Warriors. They had rescued fifty people, who were now gathered, for the most part shivering and forlorn, on the ground in front of the building.  

            With the light of day, the inhabitants opened up the doors.   A horned qunari woman emerged, dressed in simple clothes and followed by a gaggle of children of around eight to ten years old.   A second hornless woman followed with a group of toddlers. Finally a third, elf woman appeared with a babe in arms. Enavir guessed these were all tamassrans.   The first, horned qunari looked as though she was the oldest and thus it seemed likely she was the senior person in charge.   She surveyed the people occupying the area and her gaze fell on Enavir and his party.   As she approached them, he saw her frown and suspected this was due to their armour, since it was not Qunari issue. Then she stared even harder at Enavir and he guessed she was probably puzzled by his vallaslin. She demanded something in Qunari as she stared at him.   Fenris translated for him.

            “She wants to know who you are.”

            “The rescuer of these people,” he responded.   “They could do with some dry clothes, food and drink. I presume you have all of these.”

            “Sataareth kadan hass-toh issala ibasit.” Fenris translated his words.

            The tamassran reappraised the people in front of her.  

            “Shanadan,” she nodded to the other two women, who turned back inside.

            “I’d recommend keeping the children inside too,” he glanced back towards the ruined plain and guessed the numerous bumps of cloth littered across it were in fact dead bodies.   “It’s pretty grim out here.”

            “Hey, I only know so much Qunlat.”

            Fenris said “imekari”and made some hand gestures to convey the meaning the best he could. The woman looked past them, surveyed the scene beyond, then nodded and ushered the children back inside.    A short time later the elf woman reappeared with two of the older children bearing pitchers of water and a tray of mugs.   They passed around the group of survivors dispensing refreshment, before finally approaching Enavir and his companions.   The elf woman starred at Enavir’s face and he assumed she was studying his vallaslin.   He wondered if she had been raised on Seheron and if she had ever heard of the Dalish. After the woman and the children had returned to the building Fenris chuckled.

            “It’s interesting how she came to us last.   I told her superior that your purpose was to do what you could for those you consider important.   So they took me at my word and dealt with the important people first.”

            “I see. So have I offended them in some way?”

            “On the contrary, the Qun consider each individual is equally important to the survival of the whole and I’m guessing that most of these are labourers of some sort, so vital for the community.   They may respect you more for not objecting to their action.”

            “I could do with something more than water,” grumbled Isabela. “What did I say about making grand gestures without consulting the rest of the crew?   It was awfully good of you to let the birds go home but now we’re stuck here deep in hostile territory with no supplies and no way of contacting our allies.”

            “I don’t mind,” said Lauren. “Iveani will find us.”

            “That’s true,” said Fenris with a wink at Enavir, “Though I dare say he’ll be more concerned about some than others.”

            “Assuming everything went to plan,” Enavir mused. “I wonder where he is.”

            “He may have needed to rest,” suggested Lauren.

            “Most likely,” agreed Fenris. “That was considerable magic that he employed.   I wouldn’t be at all surprised if he needed time to recover.”

            “Oh great,” Isabela sighed. “Perhaps we should start taking a look around and see what we can salvage then.”

            “Do the Qunari even drink alcohol as a general rule?” Enavir said pointedly and looked at Fenris with a grin and roll of the eye towards Isabela.

            “I don’t recall anyone mentioning it when the Arishok was in Kirkwall.”

            “Probably why he was always in such a foul mood,” Isabela said dryly.

            “Why, Isabela, I thought that was because of you.”

            Isabela gave Fenris a withering look and stalked off down the hillside towards the dismal plain below.   Lauren hurried to accompany her and they started examining the flotsam for evidence of anything they could salvage.

            The Qunari soldier approached Fenris and spoke to him in Qunlat. Fenris exchanged words with him and the soldier wandered off again. Enavir looked enquiringly at Fenris.

            “He heard me mention the Arishok.   He wants to know how the war goes on the mainland.”

            “He thinks we’re part of the Qun?”

            “He referred to the three of you as viddathari. He thinks you are recent converts having been liberated by their armies and that I am your qunoran vehl. That’s a mentor who serves as an example to others.   I said that it is a while since we heard news out of the south, which is true enough.”

            “How did you explain all this and the riding in on big eagles?”

            “I didn’t have to. That’s the beauty of the Qun.   He doesn’t question what he sees.   We rescued people so to him it is obvious we are with the Qun.”

            “What about the eagles?”

            “I dare say he thinks this is a new strategy that he hasn’t been told about. He clearly hasn’t been told anything about the wider war. I don’t suppose his superiors told the rank and file about the Phantom’s warning either, so as far as he is concerned this was a natural disaster.”

            “So we don’t have to worry about these people getting nasty?”

            “Not until the Fog Warriors turn up.   Then it’ll be fun and games.   I’d be wary of that tamassran though, I think she is a bit brighter and more questioning than the rest of these people.”

            “Well that’s hardly surprising, she’s a Ben’Hassrath instructor and they’re still traumatised. Still, it might be worth trying to find out what their roles were and if they have any information we can use.”

            “Hmm, I’ll do my best but my Qunlat is limited and I doubt they’ve been taught to understand anything else.”

            He was saved the trouble of asking by the return of the tamassran.   She called several of the survivors to her and directed them into the building.   The rest she ordered to sit down, with the exception of the soldier, who after an exchange of words with the tamassran, turned about and left the company, heading in the direction of the coast.

            “Where’s he going now?” Enavir asked.

            “She asked his rank and he responded Sten. I think she reminded him that he no longer has his sword.   It is a great disgrace for a warrior to lose his sword and were his commanding officer here he would have been slain at once.   So at a guess I’d say he is going to look for it.”

            “But it could be anywhere by now, even swept out to sea.”

            Fenris shrugged. “I didn’t say his actions were sensible, just what might be driving them.”

            Enavir sighed. “Why did we bother rescuing him?”

            Lauren hurried back to them, puffing a little from running.  

            “We’ve found some undamaged barrels that appear to be full of something. Also there is a dead cow, which we may as well butcher, and lots of coconuts and bread fruit lying around.” She unhooked one of the nets they had used. “Bela and I can use this for the smaller items but we need some muscle to bring back the barrels and the cow.”

            Enavir looked down the slope and noticed a broken branch, picked up one of their ropes and started to accompany Lauren back the way she had come.

            “Tell some of those bigger lads to come with us.”

            When he got to the branch, Enavir waited for Fenris to catch up with the additional help. He indicated to two of them that they should carry the branch and the continued on to where Isabela was waiting for them.   After tying the feet of the cow to the branch, the helpers hefted it up onto their shoulders and started trudging back. Fenris indicated to the others they should start rolling the barrels, after which he supervised their progress, while Enavir, Isabela and Lauren proceeded to collect any coconuts and bread fruit they could find near at hand.  

            By the time they had filled their net and returned to the hill, the majority of the barrels had been stacked there as well, alongside the cow.   The workers, though, had disappeared inside the building, along with those they had left behind. Fenris informed them that the tamassran had arranged for breakfast to be prepared and they were sitting inside eating it in the main hall.

            Isabela started to tap on one of the barrels and listened to the sound.

            “Damn, I don’t think this has just liquid in it. What do you think?”

            Enavir examined it and sniffed the air. “I detect the smell of fish.”

            “That could be the sea water.”

            He shook his head. “No, there’s a definite aroma. I reckon that’s a barrel of pickled herring.”

            “Lovely, that’s just what I needed,” Isabela responded with sarcasm.

            “Come on; let’s see what the Qunari eat for breakfast. We can check out the other barrels later.”

            The four of them entered the building to find a large assembly hall, with neat rows of tables and chairs, each one seating a group of ten.     From what Enavir could see, the children sat at these with the eldest at the head of affairs, keeping order, and then younger ones seated below them.   The tamassrans circulated around the tables observing and correcting the behaviour of the youngsters as needed.   At the far end was a table with food and drink for collection.   Breakfast seemed to consist of a porridge-like substance with fresh fruit and water.   A group of tables had been sectioned off for the survivors from the flood.   They were already busy eating the same fare as the children, except those the tamassrans had ordered to prepare the food, who were standing at the far end ladling the porridge into individual bowls from huge cauldrons.   Enavir’s party collected their allotted allowance and returned to the end of one of the tables nearest the door.   As he ate, Enavir was conscious of the eldest tamassran studying them.

            As the children finished their meal, they returned their bowls to the table at the end and then went through double doors into another section of the building.   Enavir counted seven hundred and thirty children as they departed and guessed that the building must be the main centre in Seheron City for raising children.    He found it a relief that the children must have escaped the carnage due to the Qunari method of raising and educating the young.   He noted, though, that they were mostly a mix of humans and elves, with only around a hundred actual qunari by race.   He mentioned this to Fenris.

            “I would imagine that they mostly breed them on Par Vollen,” said Fenris. “The facilities there would be better and less chance of them running away.   These could be the captured children of Tal’Vashoth or simply orphans abandoned in the jungle.   As for the other races, the Qun would want them educated to Qunari standards, even if they do know their own parents.”

            “Chroix could have been lying about people having families.”

            “I doubt it.   The really devout ones probably live in Seheron City and would toe the line more willingly but I should think further inland Seheron is like Rivain is near Kont-aar, so the Qunari are in overall control but the natives live their own lives.”

            “Hmm, the Iron Bull seemed to suggest as much.   So do you suppose there were other children out there when the storm hit?”

            Fenris gave a wry smile.   “You really are bothered by that aren’t you?   Well, if it’s any consolation, I should imagine they would be much further west from here so probably escaped the worst of it.   However, this may be run as a boarding school even for those with parents and you never know, maybe the Qunari did take the warning seriously.   If you feared an attack, then you would gather the children up in a place that could be more easily defended.”

            “If that was the case, then where are the guards?”

            A thought struck him.   What if there had been guards?   No sooner had it occurred to him than they heard the tramp of feet splashing through water.   He leapt to his feet and dashed to the door, the others following suit.   A small squad of some twenty Qunari were advancing towards their position.   Enavir was wondering whether to try and brazen it out, when the senior tamassran appeared behind them, yelling.

            “Ebadin basra, katara.”

            After which she slammed the doors shut, leaving them outside.

            “So much for gratitude,” muttered Isabela. “Here we go again.”

            Enavir glanced around and then remembered the barrels stacked at the side of the building.

            “Quick, onto the roof.”

            He raced round with the others in close pursuit.   He helped Lauren up and then Isabela.   Then threw the nets and ropes after them but the Qunari were closing too rapidly on their position for Fenris and him to follow, so instead he pushed the barrels over in the direction of their pursuers.   This knocked over the foremost of these.   The others dodged them successfully but as they ran up alongside the building, Lauren and Isabela dropped their nets over the side.   That thinned out the ranks sufficiently that Fenris felt emboldened to charge the rest in a whirlwind action designed to maximise speed at the expense of accuracy in order to catch his assailants off guard.  

            There was no time for Enavir to string his bow, so he followed on aiming simply to draw blood where he could in the hope that his spirit would intervene on his behalf.   Sure enough, one of the soldiers turned on his companions after receiving a slash from Glandivalis.   Enavir noticed Fenris start with surprise at the expected ally and then cast a frown in his direction.

            Isabela and Lauren had jumped back down from the roof behind their assailants and taken them with sneak attacks from the rear, before continuing on to stab at the ones still struggling under the nets.   Somehow, between the four of them, plus their ensorcelled ally, they managed to bring down the entire squad, after which Fenris despatched the possessed soldier.

            “Well that was an interesting development,” said Isabela. “Not what you expected?”

            “I know,” Enavir conceded. He immediately started to string his bow.   “It looks like there were survivors of the storm still capable of fighting after all; sorry everyone.”

            “Think nothing of it,” said Fenris. “I should have known better too.”

            “So what now?” said Isabela.  

            “Well, it’s clear the tamassran is a threat, so we can’t just leave her here, or the others for that matter, and there aren’t enough of us to do any more than skirmishes anyway, so I think we may as well dig in here and await our backup.”

            “Agreed,” said Fenris.

            “Let’s just check how many bolt holes there are out of this building,” suggested Isabela.

            “And find a way of blocking them,” added Lauren.  

            “Good idea,” agreed Enavir. “Fenris, you watch the front.”

            They found two more exits to the building via doors but there were also windows to consider.   In the end it was agreed that Isabela would stand guard on one of the rear corners and Lauren on the other.   This would allow them to watch both the rear and the side elevations, so they could sound an alarm if necessary.   Enavir then returned to the front of the building to keep watch with Fenris.

            “So, is blood magic mind control something all spirit warriors can do?” Fenris enquired suspiciously.

            “No, that comes entirely from the relationship the spirit has with Glandivalis.   You missed when it happened at the Siege of Qarinus.   At the time it was a puzzled to us what happened but once Cillian found out about the spirit, it became clearer what might be going on.”

            “You’re telling me that the sword Andraste gave to Shartan is magically endowed with the ability to mimic blood magic?”

            “It seems that way,” Enavir shrugged. “Whether Andraste actually knew what it was capable of is another matter.   It seems probable that the sword dates back to the time of Arlathan, so it is something the ancient smiths were able to do.”

            “Is there anything the ancient elves didn’t do when it came to perverted magic?”

            “Makes you think doesn’t it?”

            “Look I know there are _some_ good mages but honestly that idea of the Qunari to _strengthen_ the Veil doesn’t seem that bad to me.”

            “Personally I think neither side should tinker with reality any more than it has been already.   You just don’t know what the result might be.   We could all end up emotionless automatons.”

            “I suppose you’re right.” Fenris sighed.

            A war horn sounded off in the distance to the north of their position.   Another answered it from somewhere in the jungle to the west of them, then another to the north east.   Enavir ran round the hill to where he could get a better view of the plain.   Looking across to the north he saw a line of creatures moving towards him with large ears and long noses, figures riding on their backs, he guessed around fifty in number.   Fenris joined him.

            “Elephants,” he said. “Not as large as their mainland cousins but once one of the reasons that the Imperium was interested in the island.   I remember the Fog Warriors telling me that Tevinter rounded them up to breed them to use in their cavalry and as a result they had almost died out in the wild.   Then the Qunari taking over in the Steel Age allowed numbers to recover, particularly as many of the tame elephants escaped back into the jungle.   When Tevinter recaptured the island, they had started to favour dracolisks as the mount of preference, so the elephants were left alone.”

            A squawk sounded over their heads and they looked up to see Freddie Macfeathers flapping enthusiastically in the direction of Lauren.

            “Looks like the Phantom should be with us soon,” remarked Fenris.

            No sooner had he said this than the line of elephants parted in the centre to reveal a large white elephant accompanied on the ground by Jagurandi.   On its back was Feynriel in his grey robes and mask.   He urged the elephant forwards ahead of its companions and directly towards them.   When it reached the base of the slope, it lowered itself to the ground and Feynriel dismounted, stroking its trunk before walking up to join them.

            “So have you finished fraternising with the enemy?” He said mockingly, looking past them to where the dead bodies of the Qunari still lay on the ground.   “Did they not appreciate your efforts at helping them?”

            “You can see the answer to your question,” Enavir replied brusquely.

            Feynriel removed his mask and looked past Enavir with a genuine smile.   Enavir turned to see Lauren and Isabela approaching.

            “Isabela, it seems like you gave your lesson to the wrong person,” He glanced smugly at Enavir.   “Never let your guard down until the enemy is dead, remember?”

            Enavir resented the belittling jibe but tried not to show it, instead giving an insincere smile as though he appreciated the joke.   He found it strange that he should be so sensitive to the implied criticism.   Normally he would simply shrug it off or reply in kind but he realised that the problem was he still didn’t trust Feynriel and whilst he might be an ally for the present, he certainly didn’t see him as a friend.   Did Feynriel sense this about him?   Was that the reason he treated him with contempt? Yet he had trusted him with Swiftwing.

            “It was my idea to help the people,” said Lauren.   “They didn’t look much like enemies when they were struggling to stay afloat.”

            “A fair point,” Feynriel nodded. “Swiftwing’s memories didn’t show any weapons among those you rescued, so I take it these came later.   Clearly my attack wasn’t as thorough as I hoped it would be, so it is just as well we came on the elephants.”   He appraised the building.   “So did you lock them in or they lock you out?”

            “The senior tamassran shut us out when the soldiers appeared and ordered them to kill us,” said Enavir. “Then it seemed expedient for us to stick around and watch the perimeter so none of them escaped to cause more trouble.”

            “Very good,” he nodded. “Well now we are here, you are relieved of your duty.   This is the children’s home and schoolhouse.   Are the children inside as well?”

            “Over seven hundred that I counted,” Enavir confirmed, “Plus three tamassrans and around fifty survivors of the flood.”

            “We’d better get the door open then.” He gestured to the elephant and then towards the door to the building. “Umballa, up, up and push.”

            The elephant rose to its feet and lumbered purposefully up the slope.   In a matter of minutes the door lay battered and hauled off its hinges.   Umballa lay down again at his command and flapped her ears nonchalantly. Jagurandi settled herself down alongside. By now the other elephants had joined them and lay in a ring at the base of the slope, their riders having dismounted to await instructions from their leader.

            Feynriel gave a nod and a dozen of the Fog Warriors detached themselves from the rest and joined the group outside the door, whilst the rest moved out around the building to encircle it.   When he was satisfied that all were in place where they should be, he replaced his mask and called out:

            “Ebasit kata itwa-ost. Asit tal-eb.”

            “Hmm, provocative, using the words of Koslun against them,” Fenris whispered to Enavir. “He has just suggested that their defeat is the way it is meant to be.”

            The senior tamassran appeared in the doorway.

            “Maraas kata,” she sneered. “Meraad astaarit, meraad itwasit, aban aqun. Bas ebadim astaar, Qunari itwa-toh. Asit tal-eb.”

            “Nothing is ended. The tide rises, the tide falls, the sea is unchanged,” Feynriel translated for them. “The foreigners will rise and the Qunari will cause them to fall. That is how it will be.”

            He gave a knowing smile at the tamassran. “Come now, let us dispense with this charade.   As a senior teacher, you will have been educated in the common tongue.   Will you surrender to us peacefully or do we have to come in to drag you out?”

            “Basra vashedan, we do not surrender but we shall not waste the lives of those whose purpose is not to fight.   Your death will come soon enough.”

            With that she gestured to those within and stood to one side.   First the survivors of the flood marched out and lined up in front of the building, then the children, starting with the eldest and ending with the tamassrans and the youngest.

            “Is this all?” Feynriel queried. “Surely so many children could not be managed by so few women?”

            “Our purpose was to watch over them during the night.   Others had left to perform different duties in the evening.”

            “Service your soldiers no doubt, to keep their passions under control.” Feynriel gave a contemptuous laugh.  

            Some of the Fog Warriors had already left the conversation to check within the building for the truth of her words.   A short time later a call came from within.

            “Teth a!”

            Feynriel instantly went within, Jagurandi rising to shadow him. He returned not long after to confront the tamassran once more.

            “What is in the locked room?”

            “It is nothing to you.”

            “The key,” he demanded, holding out his hand, “or would you prefer we break down the door?”

            She considered for a moment; then handed over the item with the words.

            “Ashkoth kata.”

            “You are seeking death,” Fenris translated to Enavir.

            When Feynriel returned into the building, they exchanged apprehensive glances and followed him.   He led them through the main hall and an atrium, off which were kitchens for catering and offices for the administration of the building, into a long corridor with dormitories for the children either side, then store rooms and finally a locked door at the end, where two Fog Warriors stood guard, with Jagurandi lying to one side.   Feynriel turned the key in the lock and swung the door inwards, removing his mask and cowl as he did so.

            The interior was gloomy with only a small window, high up on the wall, allowing any light to penetrate it.   That was enough though to illuminate a small figure chained by a collar to the far wall.   As they entered the room the person raised their head to reveal a young qunari girl, not more than ten or eleven years old, with fearful eyes and her mouth sewn shut, the rawness of the holes suggesting it had only recently been done.

            “Vashedan,” Feynriel swore feelingly. “My instincts were right.”

            Then he immediately dropped down to the level of the child and spoke in soothing tones.

            “Peace little one, I mean you no harm.”

            The girl shook her head and squirmed away from him, saying with difficulty through her bound mouth.

            “Teth a. Nehraa Koslun, nehraa Qun. Asit tel-eb.”

            “No, no, this is not how it is meant to be.” He glanced back at his companions. “Fazha thrin.   Leave us.”

            “No, we stay,” said Enavir.

            “Definitely,” confirmed Fenris.

            “As you wish,” Feynriel responded before lunging forward, grabbing the child in his arms and hugging her to him.   Then leaning his head against hers, he started to croon to her as a mother to a child.

            At first the girl struggled against him but slowly she started to relax.   He continued to speak in soothing tones at first in words that Enavir did not understand but latterly this changed to the common tongue, it would seem for the benefit of the onlookers.

            “There is nothing to fear, I will protect you from the evil ones.   I have mastery here. Do not listen to the voices that speak from the Void. Look to the light.”

            He eased her gently away from him and unscrewed the bolts on the collar, lifting it away from her. Then he removed a knife from his belt and cut the threads that bound her mouth closed.   After carefully removing each of them, he held his hand over her and closed his eyes.   Enavir thought he could detect a faint light passing from Feynriel’s hand to the child.

            “There now,” he said softly. “Does that feel better?”

            She nodded and gave a slight sniffle. To Enavir’s amazement the child started to speak in common.

            “Tamma said I am saarebas.   She said I should wait for my arvaarad.   She said if I did not I would become a monster.”

            “You are not saarebas.   You are not a monster.” Feynriel’s eyes were brimming with tears.   “Your name is Ataashi.   You are one of the glorious ones.”

            Jagurandi pushed past Enavir and Fenris, stalking up to the pair on the ground, her purring so loud is was like a pot boiling.   A brief sensation of fear crossed the child’s face at the approach of the big cat but Feynriel held out his hand in greeting.

            “Do not be afraid, Jagurandi is my friend.   There are people who would collar her, place a muzzle on her mouth and chain her as a dangerous thing.   She can be fierce to those who would harm her home or her friends but she can also be gentle and loving.” He took the child’s hand in his and encouraged her to run it over Jagurandi’s fur. “See how soft she is.   There now, scratch her behind the ears, she likes that.”

            She did as suggested and Jagurandi turned her head to allow her to reach her ear on the other side.   Slowly a slight smile started to grow on the child’s face.

            “Would you like to be one of Jagurandi’s friends, Ataashi?”

            Ataashi nodded, still stroking the cat; then flung her arms around the animal.

            “Good, then walk with us.   We are leaving this place.”

            The group of them headed back to the entrance, Ataashi between Jagurandi and Feynriel, one hand on the cat and the other in his hand.   As they appeared in the open, the tamassran yelled in fear and anger.

            “Katara bas, you have made her fit only for qamek.”

            Feynriel immediately dropped Ataashi’s hand and rushed forward, forcing the qunari woman back against the wall of the building, his hand ketching against her forehead.   Enavir could see the outrage etched in every line of his face and his eyes blazed.

            “How many have you done this to, bitch?” His voice was barely above a whisper but ice cold and deadly in its intensity. “How many didn’t survive your treatment? How dare you call her saarebas, you are the only saarebas here.   Katara bas.”

            The tamassran’s eyes went wide with terror and her body started to shake.   Enavir immediately raced forward and grabbed Feynriel’s arm.   The blazing eyes transferred their attention to him and for a split second Enavir felt the murderous intent and a chill in his soul.   Then it passed as Feynriel withdrew his power and threw out the challenge.

            “Why do you defend her?”

            “The children, you’re upsetting them.   She’s their mother.”

            In the brief pause that followed the sound of children sobbing and screaming could be heard and then a small voice said appealingly.

            “Please don’t harm Tamma.” It was Ataashi.

            Feynriel lowered his arm and took a deep breath to calm himself.   He shot a contemptuous look at the tamassran, who had collapsed onto the ground.

            “You’re no mother,” he muttered quietly.   Then he looked across to Ataashi and smiled reassuringly.   “Very well, I will not harm her.”   He turned away, with the parting words to the woman.   “Thank Ataashi for your life.”

            He gestured to the nearby Fog Warriors. “All the adults will come with us.   That includes the tamassrans, only keep them separate from the rest.” He looked around and seemed to spy someone he was looking for. “Aiya, I need you to stay here and look after the children until we can arrange something permanent for them.   Choose who you would like to assist you.   A detachment of guards will also stay here to protect you, just in case there are any more stragglers we have missed.   Any questions?” His followers responded in the negative. “Good, let’s be moving on then.”

            He returned to Ataashi and crouched down before her, saying gently.

            “I’d like _you_ to come with me, though, if that’s okay with you.   I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you; I was just angry at what she said and did to you.”

            For a few seconds she just stared back into his eyes; then she smiled and nodded.

            “Excellent,” he beamed back. “How does riding on the back of an elephant sound to you?” He pointed to Umballa.

            Ataashi stared at her wide-eyed.   “Will Jagurandi be coming too?”

            “Yes, but she will run alongside.”

            With that he grabbed the girl by the waist and swung her up onto the elephant’s back, before jumping up behind her and holding her steady with his arms around her waist.   Umballa immediately rose to her feet, ears still flapping gently.   Enavir could see Feynriel whisper something into Ataashi’s ear and the child started to laugh.   As the elephant lumbered down the hill, Feynriel called back over his shoulder.

            “You four, if you want to come with me, grab a spare elephant each.” Then he urged the Umballa to a faster pace.  

            The majority of the Fog Warriors also returned to their elephants in order to follow him.     Four of the warriors who were to remain at the school offered them their mounts.   Enavir and the others quickly scrambled up and set off in pursuit of the main party.

            “First eagles, then elephants, the other raiders will never believe me,” laughed Isabela. “I’ve got to hand it to you; this trip has been one hell of a ride.”

**  
**


	20. Chapter 20

            The cohort of elephants continued their steady progress across the plain towards Seheron City as the morning wore on and the sun approached its zenith. Every so often one of the riders would slip off the elephant and motion with their hands over one of the corpses on the ground. Enavir assumed they must be Fog Dancers, although they were dressed no different to the others, and thus were casting some sort of spell.   He urged his elephant to catch up with that of Feynriel and asked him about this.

            “Have you never encountered the spell to decompose bodies, or anything for that matter, where you wish to speed the natural process of decay?”

            “I am not an expert on spells but I have never seen any of my companions use it.”

            “I must say I don’t recall seeing it mentioned in Tevinter but they still maintain the pretense of following the Chantry religion so insist on burning their dead.   The Dalish of course have a tradition of burial, so would not have much use for it either.   Here, though, they are aware of the dangers of dead bodies as a host for spirits crossing the Veil and it is potentially too dangerous to start a fire for risk of attracting more tangible enemies, so it has become customary to deal with them in this way.   The corpse is reduced to dust within a day and is returned to the earth to nurture new life.   In that way every living thing is a memorial to the one you have lost.   It gives one a very positive view on death.”

            “Is that why you had so little problem with unleashing a storm of that magnitude on them?”

            “You disapprove do you?” Feynriel raised his eyebrows at him.

            “I had been told that the Fog Warriors did not punish the ordinary citizens for the actions of their leaders.   The storm did not discriminate.”

            “You really do not appreciate the mentality of the Qun do you?   Every worker is part of their mind and contributes to the whole.   A true convert does not see themselves as an individual and so long as even one endures who strictly adheres to their teaching, the Qun is still present and working against you. In any case I have seen your memories of the Exalted Plains. Do you suppose the people there really cared who was in control? Did they have any choice but to flee or be killed when the armies clashed on their land?”

            “I guess not,” Enavir conceded with a sigh.

            “To have marched on the Qun in conventional battle would not only have risked countless lives of the Fog People and caught many non-combatants in the crossfire but would have been far more costly to those under their rule even if it did not for, short of me reading the memories of every single one, how would we know if they were true followers or merely kabethari?”

            “How do you now?”

            “I did not rely on just my final message.   We have been undermining them for months, reminding people of our ancient legend of Nahar and what it would mean for the invaders.   They also need only watch the behaviour of the birds and animals to know that something was brewing.   Creatures not forcibly restrained have long since fled the area. Any true natives not hopelessly indoctrinated by their teaching would understand the signs and flee at once from the Qunari held coast. There are many thousands of them now inland, waiting to return when it is safe.  The Fog People are caring for them. Those who trusted in the Qun and ignored my warning perished at the hands of a god they claim does not exist.”

            “Tamma told the cook not to worry,” said Ataashi casually.   “She came to ask her advice about a message that had been left in her hut.   Tamma told her that Nahar does not exist and she should burn the message.   Then I found one, so I burned it like she said to.”

            “With your magic?” Feynriel clarified.

            Ataashi nodded.   “I thought Tamma would be pleased but she screamed at me and then she put a collar on me and sewed my mouth shut.”

            “Then Nahar sent me to rescue you.   What do you think of your Tamma now?”

            “I think she is sad and afraid.   She wanted me to be a tamassran like her.   That’s why she taught me common.   She said I was clever to have learned it so quickly.   It’s not her fault she doesn’t understand what I am.”

            “That’s true enough,” agreed Feynriel.

            At that moment Enavir’s crystal started to vibrate and the word “Amatus” could clearly be heard in Dorian’s dulcet tones.   Feynriel gave a knowing smile.  

            “Well, aren’t you going to answer it?   Come, Ataashi, I think Enavir wants some privacy.”

            With that he urged Umballa forward, leaving Enavir in a clear space to respond.   They exchanged the code words and then Dorian spoke first.

            “Amatus, what is going on over there?   Are you okay?”

            “Couldn’t be better, why do you ask?”

            “The servants are literally buzzing with the gossip.   I went to bed early for once last night and slept like a log. It seems like Hawke is having a calming influence on me. So I missed all the excitement but Hawke confirmed what the servants are saying.   The night sky to the east was lit up like it was Saturnalia.   Flash after flash apparently so bright it looked like day.   It must have been over the Alam penisula but that is _miles_ from here.   Some are saying it was a magical attack on the Qunari Garrison in Alam Fortress that the Archon arranged in secret but others that it was just an incredibly powerful electric storm.   So can you shed any light on the incident?”

            “It was a powerful storm and the product of magic but the Archon had nothing to do with it.”   He looked at the departing Umballa and decided that Feynriel had given his approval to the conversation.   “That was the tail end of a present to the Qun from the Phantom of Seheron.   You should have seen it at its height.”

            “You were out in that?”

            “Not under it, thank heaven.   I had a ring side seat.   I am reliably informed that the Promise of Nahar has been fulfilled.”

            “The Promise of whom?”

            “You’ve never been much of a one for religion have you?   Apparently that is the name the Fog Warriors give to the Maker or his nearest equivalent in their religion.   He seems to have made a promise to them many years ago, probably when your lot first conquered them, that one day they would be liberated in much the same manner as the Maker was attributed to have said to Andraste.”

            “You’ve lost me.   I thought she conquered at the head of an army, not a storm.”

            “Those who oppose thee shall know the wrath of heaven. Field and forest shall burn, the seas shall rise and devour them, the wind shall tear their nations from the face of the earth, lightning shall rain down from the sky.   It comes from one of the canticles in the Chant of Light and Nahar promised the same thing.”

            “And that’s what happened last night?”

            “Well I didn’t see any fields or forests burning, maybe I was in the wrong place for that, but everything else pretty much followed it literally.   Qunathras and Seheron City are in ruins, the fleet anchored here was wrecked and we’re in the process of dealing with the aftermath.”

            “Good god!”

            “Yes, it does seem that way,” Enavir said with a wry sarcasm. “He came through for the little people.”

            “So what now?”

            “That’s not down to me.   I’m just an observer and part-time helper.   I imagine that it may also depend on how the Magisterium decides to react once they get the news.   Try to restrain them when they do; they really don’t want to antagonize Nahar.   Keep encouraging them to capitalize on the isolation of the Qunari fleet down south rather than trying to retake Seheron for all our sakes.”

            “You’re not in danger are you?”

            “No, but I rather imagine you might be if the Tevinter fleet suffers a humiliating defeat like that of the Qun.   They are bound to discover my involvement eventually.”

            “Hmm, I see what you mean.”

            “Just keep on your guard and get as much research done as you can before the news breaks. I imagine you’ll be wrapped up in the politics once it does.”

            “A hint that I should get my lazy butt out of bed,” Dorian said in querulous voice.

            “You said it,” Enavir said with a laugh.   “I’ll call you later for an update.”

            Enavir encouraged his elephant back alongside Umballa.   As they travelled across the plain he noticed that periodically Feynriel would close his eyes as though he were falling asleep.   Whilst this would be understandable, Enavir suspected that it was allowing him to concentrate as he made contact with his various animal familiars.

            As noon passed the shattered city walls came into sight.   Another group of warrior mounted elephants was awaiting them.

            “We have dealt with the holdouts,” the foremost rider informed Feynriel.   “All soldiers are dead and we have rounded up any surviving workers as we agreed.”

            “Where are they now?

            “Under guard in what used to be the main assembly area.”

            “Good, then I shall take our prisoners there too.   We need to get the area cleared up as soon as possible, so our citizens can start rebuilding their homes.   Make good use of the elephants while the day lasts, I’ll be sending them back to the jungle this evening.”

            As they moved forward, Enavir urged his elephant alongside Umballa once more. He noticed that Ataashi had fallen asleep, her face peaceful as she rested against Feynriel’s shoulder.

            “You told them to spare the survivors?”

            “I agreed with the idea when they suggested it to me.   You seem surprised.”

            “You disapproved when I did the same.”

            He gave a crooked smile.   “Maybe I was seeing just how well you do respond to criticism.   There was a touch of arrogance in your memories, as would be the case of one accustomed to lead, but you also seem anxious that others should think well of you.   You want to appear the hero.”

            “And you don’t?”

            Feynriel laughed. “Everybody thinks they are the hero of their own story. I just don’t need the validation of others.”

            “Fen’Harel spoke of his interest in finding out what sort of hero I would prove to be. It disturbs me how much you remind me of him.”

            “I find it disturbing that in your memories you seem to be constantly trying to prove something to him or maybe win his approval.   I resent the fact that you seem to feel our world has to justify its existence to him.”

            “He respected me once and I him. I thought I might be able to convince him to abandon his plan or modify it in some way. It is all I have to go on.   What else can we do when we have no idea where he is or what he intends to do?”

            “I understand Fen’Harel better than you know.   That’s why I’m going to beat him.” He gave a wry smile. “He said he would do anything to save his own people and suggested you would do the same.   You like to think you would not be so ruthless but I harbor no such illusions.   His people have their origins in the Fade and have their strongest connection to there; mine are grounded in the unchanging world.   That is why I have no option but oppose him.”

            “Yet you are Iveani, the Fade Touched.   Surely you have more in common with him?”

            “I said I understood him didn’t I?   I am a freak of nature and as such belong with no one but I have found my people on Seheron and I intend to protect them from anyone who would threaten them.”

            Enavir thought about this for a while and then came to a conclusion.

            “When you talk of your people, you don’t just mean humans do you?”

            “No, I don’t.   If he can think of simple spirits as people, then I can think of the creatures of this world in the same way.   The Fog Warriors understand this.   They know I intend to make Seheron a sanctuary for all.   There will be no hunting for sport on Seheron.   Its citizens will respect the natural world as in fact they have always done.   It was Tevinter and then the Qun who despoiled it.   The jungle once covered the whole island but both sides used the trees for their war ships.   Tevinter captured animals to use in their armies or for their magical experiments.   The Qun simply do not have regard for anything they cannot control.   The wilderness must be made fruitful but by that they mean domesticated to grow the crops they have a use for.   To their eyes the jungle is a place of violence and chaos, so it must be tamed.”

            “Iron Bull said the same about dragons.”

            “He was the hissrad that you made Tal-Vashoth.   I saw he was not entirely happy with that.”

            “He feared becoming savage like those he encountered on….” Enavir stopped and saw Feynriel studying him intently.

            “Go on say it, like those he encountered on Seheron.   The Qunari call them savages. I see people who have finally broken free of their shackles and become violent if they feel their freedom is threatened.”

            “He accused them of poisoning children.”

            “I wouldn’t know about that since it was long before my time on the island but if they poisoned their bodies, the tamassrans poison their minds.” He gestured towards the sleeping child. “Look at her.   Can you think of anything crueler than to encourage a child to master language and then sew their mouth shut?   That’s what tamassran means, ‘those who speak’.   They are the teachers and communicators not just for children born into the Qun but also the viddathari and kabethari, hence the need to learn common to fulfil their function in society.”

            “A simple spell to please her Tamma and it all changed.”

            “Exactly, and how hypocritical they are.   How can you truly know yourself with a collar around your neck and your mouth sewn shut?   ‘To know something is to understand it, to understand why it is, what it is, as well as what it is not. To know something is to possess the power to master it, and only in the lack of knowing lies weakness’.   Those are the words of their Ashkaari.   Ironic wouldn’t you think?   I will teach Ataashi what she truly is and in that she will find strength.”

            “Why did you choose to call her Ataashi?”

            “You know it is their name for dragons.   They are the children of fire, so it seemed only fitting that I should call her by that name.”

            “Iron Bull suggested as much but surely it can’t be true that the tamassrans bred them with dragons.”

            “The tamassrans?” Feynriel snorted with derision. “Can you honestly see them doing something so reckless?   Whatever happened was long before Koslun and created the kossith.   The tamassrans have been doing their level best to breed it out again and like to claim they are nothing like their ancestors.”

            “Who then?”

            “You’re not going to like it.”

            Enavir sighed. “The Evanuris.”

            “Not all of them, just one who was raised to godhood after the rest.”

            “Ghilan’nain?”

            Feynriel nodded.   “I think she was a sort of game keeper for Andruil before her elevation, charged with breeding new variants to challenge Andruil’s hunting prowess.   Seheron was her base of operations.   The griffons were created by her.”

            “And the halla but in the legend I read, it said she destroyed all her other creatures as a condition of raising her to godhood.”

            “Except the giants of the sea, that were too well wrought,” added Feynriel. “The story is recorded here as well.   It also says that pride stayed her hand, except it is written as Solas, in other words as a name.”

            “Why would he have stopped her?”

            “Well, at a guess I would say that since Mythal is the goddess of the sea, it was her wish but she didn’t want the other Evanuris to know, so she asked him to make the request on her behalf.   Then in return she asked his advice on how to conceal something else.”

            “The kossith.”

            “It’s possible.   It wasn’t until the third day that she was said to have destroyed the beasts of the land and the day after getting rid of the monsters of the sea, plenty of time to have hidden some of them away from the eyes of the Evanuris, or simply cast them adrift on the ocean to take their chance until they reached a land beyond the reach of the gods.   Then again, maybe she didn’t create them until much later.   The gods seemed constrained by their natures to behave in a certain way. Why should she be any different? She was driven to create new creatures or did so when it was demanded of her.   When we have finished here I must show you our pictures and see if you can make sense of them.”

            “You already seem to know more than me.”

            “It helps to have another perspective.   All I am sure of is that the blood of dragons does run in their veins.   That is no reason to deny them their freedom or give them any less respect than any other living creature.”

            There was another brief pause while both considered his words.   Enavir suddenly had a sense of guilt he felt compelled to confess.

            “They called me a dragon slayer at Skyhold.”

            “How many did you kill?”

            “Twelve including Hakkon and the red lyrium dragon.”

            “They were enslaved by another, so they do not count.   What of the others, did they threaten the lives of other people?”

            “The first did.   That was in Crestwood.   The one in the Hinterland was too close to the refugees for comfort.   Others attacked immediately when we stumbled on their lair.”

            “They are probably strongly territorial.   There are birds in the jungle that do the same.”

            “I cannot use that excuse for all.   We deliberately baited the dragon in the desert of the Western Approach and roused the dragon in the Hissing Wastes from sleep.  The dragon on the Storm Coast was living out on an island and seldom came to the mainland.”

            “So why did you do it?”

            “I don’t know.   It became an obsession I suppose.   Some of my companions were the same.”

            “Let me guess, Iron Bull was one of them.”

            “Yes, he was. How do you know that?”

            “You told me as much and besides he was raised a Qunari.   Dragons represent chaos and also remind them sub-consciously of their fearful ancestry.”

            “He told me that.   He said it spoke to him.   That’s when he told me about the tamassrans.”

            “May be the dragons spoke to you too.”

            “The elves aren’t descended from dragons.”

            “They were ruled over by beings that could take the form of dragons.   May be it awakened some deep racial memory of enslavement by them, or later when Tevinter destroyed the last elven city.   Or maybe you became obsessed with killing them because it is the nature of elves to be obsessed.   They hailed you a dragon slayer after the first and so you were compelled to keep killing them.”

            Enavir looked into Feynriel’s eyes, shocked at the suggestion.

            “Could that be true?”

            “You do seem to have a somewhat obsessive nature but then something might have triggered your reaction, something that linked you back to your past.”

            “The anchor?”

            “It’s a possibility, that’s all I’m saying.”

            “He asked me about it.   Solas, asked if I’d noticed any difference in myself since getting the anchor.”

            “Before or after you killed your first dragon?”

            “I don’t remember.   He said how he respected me and was surprised that the Dalish could have raised me. I thought he meant the anchor had made me a better person and naturally I denied it.   I said I was the same as I had ever been.”

            “Maybe you were but you were just closer to remembering what it was to be a true elf and that set him thinking if it had been his anchor that caused it.”

            “He just couldn’t accept that I _was_ a true elf.”

            “So you want to be compelled by your nature as they were?”

            “No, I wouldn’t want that.”

            “Then maybe he truly did free your ancestors from enslavement, not to the Evanuris but to themselves.” He looked thoughtful. “You didn’t kill every dragon you encountered.   What of the last one that the Qunari had chained up?   In your memories your companions were urging you to do so but you went out of your way to free her.”

            “Then I can’t use the anchor as an excuse for the rest, for I still had it.”

            “So think back, why do you think you freed her?”

            “She was weak from them draining her blood, suffering and trapped.   Somehow it didn’t seem right to kill her.”

            “You didn’t see her as a threat but as a slave, so you gave her freedom.   You _were_ being true to yourself.   You have taken the title of the Liberator when all is said and done and have pledged yourself to the spirit of the sword that goes with that name.”

            “First you say my motivation is as a killer, then as a liberator.”

            “Death can be a sort of freedom if there is no other escape.   However, I never called you a killer; you named yourself dragon slayer.”

            “But you said I was compelled to follow my nature.”

            “Again, it was you who called it an obsession and I just ventured a theory as to your motivation that fitted with that.   Tell me something, if you are a hunter, why do you have the vallaslin of Mythal?”

            “I saw myself primarily as a protector of the clan. I could hunt as well as any if it was needed but the majority of my time was spent watching over the clan when others slept, scouting the perimeter for danger.   When we moved from one region to another, it was the same.   I went ahead to check for potential threats and decide on the best route to take that would keep my people safe.”

            “So why did you go to the Conclave? Was that not leaving the clan unprotected?”

            “I was not the only guardian but I put myself forward as best suited for the task.   It would still be indirectly protecting the clan as I was spying on our enemies to establish if the decisions made there would be a threat to us in the future.”

            “Planning ahead, preparing yourself by knowing your enemy, how they think and act, is that correct?”

            “Yes, pretty much so I would say.”

            “When you fought Corypheus’ dragon and Hakkon, did you find them challenging?”

            “They were tough but by then I had a good idea how to deal with them.”

            “Through all those battles you had with the other dragons?”

            “Yes, each dragon was different and every time we fought one, I learnt a bit more.”

            “So was _that_ the reason _you_ felt compelled to fight them?”

            Enavir thought back through his memories and realised that Feynriel was right.

            “Yes, now I think about it, I wanted to learn how to fight dragons, not for glory or blood lust but because I knew that eventually I would have to face Corypheus again.”

            “Then those dragons did not die in vain.   It is sad that you were driven by necessity to act as you did but I can respect your reasons.”   He gave him a level stare. “When you are true to yourself that is a man I can respect.”

            “When am I not?”

            Feynriel looked away. “I do not wish to offend.”

            “You already do by not answering.”

            Feynriel sighed and looked back. “Do you ever feel compromised by your mate?”

            “If anything he is compromised by me.”

            “I suppose that is a matter of perspective. Your actions thus far have been to the benefit of Tevinter.”

            “Not everyone would agree with that, the slavers for example.”

            “A minor inconvenience in the grand scheme of things,” Feynriel gave a wry smile. “Preventing the Qun from taking Qarinus, now that was significant.”

            “That benefitted everyone, not just Tevinter.”

            “It didn’t help us on Seheron.   It must have been around that time that they became more aggressive towards us rebels and pushed further into the jungle against us. Without that alternative base for their forces, they will be all the more determined to take back this island.   I can deal with that threat for the time being but we will be fighting on two fronts once Tevinter realise the situation here. Even so, I am not prepared to make concessions to Tevinter simply to lessen the burden. Seheron is now an independent, free nation and we owe allegiance to no one but ourselves.”

            “You think I don’t know that?”

            “Then you are prepared to work against Tevinter?”

            “I came here without Dorian’s knowledge, even though it might work against him.”

            “That has yet to be tested.   It is what I mean when I ask if you are compromised. What will you do when your loyalties are conflicted? Will it be to us or Dorian?   Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate all you have done so far, not the least for Swiftwing and I was impressed how easily you gained his confidence.   It is just that I know what they are like in Tevinter first hand and you do not.”

            “Perhaps I will find out when I have done all I can here.”

            “Why not before?   You have the means.”

            “How long would it take to fly to Minrathous?”

            “Not long, you could get there and back in a day, although you could only fly into and out of Minrathous after dark, so it would take two days in reality. Still, we are going to be busy here in Seheron City for the couple of days while I leave the occupants of Alam Fortress to stew, so I could spare you for that long to see how the land lies.”

            “It’s a nice idea but I don’t even know where Dorian lives in Minrathous.”

            “But I do. I visited the Pavus house on a couple of occasions, so I think I could guide you there from my memories, if you are willing to let me.   Think about it and let me know later.”

            Enavir felt sure there was more to this offer than was readily apparent but he couldn’t deny he longed to see Dorian again, so he nodded his agreement that he would think about it.


	21. Chapter 21

            When they arrived at the holding area for the prisoners, Enavir judged that roughly two hundred people had been herded there having survived the storm.   Some of them looked angry and defiant but the majority appeared dazed and confused just as the people they rescued had, before they had been taken in hand by the tamassran.   Feynriel left the Fog Warriors to add their own prisoners to the group, guiding Umballa around the edge as he headed towards what remained of the main government building for the island. Once there he gently woke Ataashi and they both dismounted from the elephant.   He gestured to Enavir and his party that they should do the same.

            He led them up the steps to the double doors, broken and twisted on their hinges. Beyond was a small lobby area and then more shattered doors that led into a great hall. Small piles of dust indicated that the Fog Dancers had already done their work here.   Feynriel clearly had something else on his mind.  

            At the far end of the meeting hall was a raised dais on which a massive stone bench rested that had withstood the flood. Tattered banners fluttered in the breeze that wafted down from above where the roof was open to the sky.   The eye was drawn, though, to the statues that lined the hall and two in particularly that stood to either side of the throne.   Whilst some of the statues had been toppled, these latter two were still in place, probably due to being placed in this higher position.   They were depictions of naked Qunari warriors in aggressive stance, spears pointing towards the space where a supplicant would stand.   The statues alone would be impressive enough but they were gilded with gold that glinted in the sun beams that shone through broken windows.   The fallen statures were of similar fashion, both male and female in idealized forms even to the extent of being depicted with long flowing hair, such as Enavir had never seen on any living Qunari.   They seemed incongruous and totally out of keeping with what he had thought was the austere and practical philosophy of the Qun.   Feynriel made a thorough tour of the hall, nodding to himself, before turning to address his companions.

            “What do you make of this ostentatious display?”

            “It seems out of keeping with what I know of the Qun.”

            “It does indeed,” Feynriel smiled wryly. “I am given to understand this is merely a reflection of what can be found in the ruling house in Par Vollen.   Over in the sleeping quarters of the general on Qunathras you would find a similar gaudy display, with a bed shaped like a stylized boat being hauled across the sea by muscular warriors.   All gilded with gold.   How much sweat and toil went into these decorations and for what purpose?”

            “To remind all of the glory of the Qun,” Ataashi recited in a quiet voice as though in rote. “That is what Tamma said when she brought us here.”

            “Strange, I would have thought that their devoted followers hardly needed to be reminded,” stated Feynriel. “As for foreigners, the Qun have no need of them, so they are seldom invited to visit and besides I am sure the people of Thedas have enough living Qunari to remind them without the need of gilded statues.”

            “How do you see it then?” asked Fenris.

            “A vain glorious display to reassure those that may be having their doubts about their superiority, or maybe it is simply that even among the Qun those at the top like to distinguish themselves from the rank and file.   With rank comes privilege and that includes ordering statues that fulfil no practical purpose save that of stroking their ego.   Ah Ashkari Koslun, if you could only see what hypocrites your priesthood have become.   They recite your Soul Canto to keep the masses from wishing to elevate themselves from the drudgery of their lives, yet they glorify themselves with these monstrosities.” He turned away, shaking his head in disapproval.   “You have seen the greatest kings build monuments to their glory, only to have them crumble and fade.   How much greater is the world than their glory?”

            “Isn’t that from the Tome of Koslun?” said Enavir.

            “Indeed, it is from the Soul Canto.” Feynriel sounded almost reverent.

            “I don’t understand.   You hate the Qun and yet you quote the words of their Ashkaari.”

            “You hate the Chantry and yet you use passages from the Chant of Light.   You will grant it is possible to admire the prophet but reject what their alleged followers have done with their teaching.   It is a lesson to us all to be careful to preserve our legacy for future generations so others cannot corrupt the message for their own ends.”

            He walked briskly back down the hall.

            “The statues will be left on display initially so all may see what their leaders indulged themselves with.   Then the gold will be stripped and melted down for the good of our people and the statues broken up and put to some other purpose.” He intoned once more. “Nothing is special, only pieces.”

            He emerged once more into the open air and stood upon the steps overlooking the assembly grounds, signaling to one of the Fog Warriors guarding them.   The warrior blew a blast on his horn, a magnificent instrument that looked to have been fashion from a real ox horn.  In the silence that followed Feynriel called out.

            “Teth a!” The prisoners all looked in the direction of Feynriel.

            “Nahar has seen fit to spare you and we will not dispute with his wisdom.   However, you cannot remain upon our island and currently it is not possible to return you to Par Vollen.”

            “What if we don’t want to go to Par Vollen?” One of the more belligerent looking humans near them asked.

            “If you wish to recant the Qun, then you must submit to my examination to determine if your rejection is genuine; if it is then you may remain here, if it is not then you will depart with the rest.   As soon as we have surveyed Qunathras and salvaged what we wish from the wreckage, you will be carried there and given seed and tools that you may start to provide for yourselves.   Once a week, supplies will be delivered to ensure you do not starve until you are self-sufficient.   This will continue until such time as we can arrange for your repatriation to Par Vollen or you request to leave the Qun.   That is the judgement of Nahar.”

            “What of the children?” It was the voice of the elder tamassran.

            Feynriel regarded her with cold eyes.

            “The children will remain with us.   They will be _re-educated_.   When they come of age, they will be offered the same choice as you.   If they wish to depart to Par Vollen, then their choice will be respected.” Feynriel gave a wry smile as he glanced at Ataashi. “I rather think, though, that they will prefer to remain with us.”

            He cast his gaze further across the company that stood before him and briefly closed his eyes.   It seemed to Enavir that he was concentrating, possibly focusing his mind on something or someone but it only lasted a few seconds, after which he opened them again and said abruptly.

            “Asit tel-eb.”

            Then he remounted Umballa and held out his hand to Ataashi, who followed suit.   The rest of them likewise remounted their elephants and Feynriel led them away in the direction of the sea without even a backward glance.   On reaching the coast Feynriel dismounted once more and, leaving Ataashi astride the elephant, he walked down the beach until the waves lapped his feet.   He looked back and beckoned to Enavir, who swiftly joined him at the water’s edge.

            “Qunandar, their capital, lies just across there,” he pointed to the north-west.

            Looking in the direction of his gesture, Enavir could discern a distant group of islets off the coast of Seheron but with difficulty as they were shrouded in mist.

            “A fleet of dreadnoughts could be here in under a week.   Even if no one got a message away, if they hear nothing from their outpost here they will send a force to investigate.   I must protect my people and I suspect that Tevinter will demand my full attention once they discover what has befallen the Qun on Seheron. The Fog will aid us so long as we need it but I must call on the Lady of the Sea to safeguard us as well.”

            With that he walked forward into the sea, until it came up to his waist.   He placed his hands palm down into the waves, closed his eyes and started to chant lyrically.

            “I am the wind on the sea. I am the ocean wave. I am the roar of the sea. Lady I call on thee, Aban-ataashi, pour thy favour on me.”

            Briefly the wind rose, blowing his hair in wild billows around his face, then dropped to stillness once more and Feynriel relaxed with a sigh.

            “It is done.   The sea will protect us.”

            He turned and strode out of the water, his grey robes drenched and sticking to his legs.

            “There is much to be done.   Still, while we wait for the eagles to arrive, would you like to send a message your people in Telenadas?   There is the possibility that the Qun may respond to our success here by renewing their attack on the mainland in the north.”

            “I’d appreciate that.   Do you have paper and pen?”

            “No need,” he grinned.   “Just tell me what you wish to say and I shall send it via the dreams of the person you wish to receive it.   Normally it would not be possible to contact someone I do not know personally but so long as it is someone I saw in your memories then it should not present a problem.”

            “Not for you perhaps but what of them?”

            “Don’t worry, we’ll explain the phenomenon to them, so they will understand it is not a demon or hostile intruder. Perhaps you could also mention something known only to you; that would be a help.”

            Enavir thought that any of his friends might still be disturbed by such an intrusion in their sleep but it did seem to be too good an opportunity to pass up.   He decided his mother would probably be the least fazed by the contact and would appreciate knowing he was safe, so he elected to send the message to her.

            By the time Feynriel had finished sending the message the eagles could be seen on the horizon.   He dismissed the elephants with his usual gratitude and they lumbered back inland towards the jungle of the interior.   When the eagles arrived they were carrying large basket structures at the end of ropes.  

            “These are to collect any salvage,” he explained.

            Then he helped Ataashi on to the back of his eagle, whilst the others climbed on theirs and they set off for a closer examination of Qunathras.   It wasn’t as grim a task as Enavir had expected as much of the island seemed to have been scoured clean by the wave but the few skeletal remains of the huts told their own tale.

            The ruins of the fortress were a different story.   Feynriel told Ataashi to wait outside with Lauren while he went within with Enavir, Fenris and Isabella.     It was clear that here the bodies had been mangled and smashed against the stone by the swirl as well as drowned, though whether this had been before or after death was impossible to tell.   There was a large hole in the centre of the structure that was clear evidence that Fenris’ coconut bombs had worked, likely combined with an accurate hit on the gaatlok store.     Feynriel performed his corpse reducing clean up spell and they carried on searching for any salvage worth keeping.   This mostly took the form of weapons that lay half buried in rubble and silt, together with those taken from the corpses.  

            Having explored the whole islet and satisfied himself that everything worth recovering had been, together with the assurance that nothing remained that could be used against his people, Feynriel led them back to the birds and they returned to the main island.   The sun was just beginning to set as they arrived back at the assembly ground.

            “That will do for today.   Tomorrow we will use the baskets to transport the prisoners to Qunathras.”

            “I thought you would be taking them by boat,” said Enavir.

            “There are currently no boats near enough to use and by the time they get here, the passage will no longer be safe.   Besides I want these people out of the way as soon as possible so we can allow the rest to return and I can move on to Alam.   Rest well, my friends, until morning.”

            Enavir couldn’t deny he needed to sleep and the others seemed equally exhausted so they settled down without further discussion of the day’s events.   However, in keeping with his usual routine, Enavir contacted Dorian but he had little new to report. He had spent the afternoon in the Circle archives with Hawke.   Speculation was still rife about the storm the night before but it would appear the inhabitants of Minrathous were none the wiser about what had really occurred.   Hawke had been invited to address the Magisterium the following afternoon followed by an official reception in the evening, so he warned Enavir that they probably wouldn’t be able to talk the following day.   Enavir assured him that was not a problem, smiling to himself at the surprise he had planned. Dorian informed him that they had elected to get an early night so as to be at their best for the occasion. It seemed like everyone could look forward to a peaceful, untroubled sleep.  

           

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	22. Chapter 22

           Enavir awoke refreshed shortly after dawn as the sun was just appearing above the horizon. He dressed himself and went in search of Feynriel, finding him down near the beach with Ataashi, who was still asleep on one side of him, and Jagurandi on guard on the other.   Feynriel was sitting cross legged with his hands resting in his lap and his eyes closed. Enavir wondered if he should announce his presence when the eyes opened and Feynriel smiled in greeting.

           “Come, join me for breakfast.”

           Without being told, Jagurandi moved out of the way and Enavir sat himself down in her place. Feynriel searched in his pack and produced some biscuits and fruit, offering them to Enavir.   He accepted them with a brief nod of thanks.

           “So have you given any further thought to my offer?”

           “I would appreciate the opportunity to visit Dorian and you may touch minds with me again.”

           “Excellent.   You can set out once the eagles arrive this morning.   That will allow Swiftwing the time to have a rest on route.   Then you can cross to Minrathous this evening and return tomorrow night.   By then we should be in place on Alam to deal with the last Qunari stronghold.”

           “Are we actually going to engage them this time?”

           “That depends on whether they decide to be reasonable and surrender.”

           “They’re Qunari, they never surrender.”

           “Oh, you never know, they did outside Qarinus. Isolated as they are they may lose faith in the Qun. It has been known to happen, particularly when the majority of their leaders were lost on Qunathras.   It's why I timed the assault for when the Arishok was away down south.   He is said to be something of an astute fellow and a good tactician but didn’t allow for something unforeseen happening.”

           “Like your storm?   Would anyone expect that?”

           “Whilst storms of that magnitude are unusual, they are not unheard of in these parts.   There hasn’t been one in living memory, probably not in the ninety odd years since they retook the island from Tevinter, but that is no excuse for ignorance.”

           “It _was_ a magical storm.”

           Feynriel gave him a pitying look. “I forget how little you know of magic.   You cannot conjure a storm where it would not normally occur.”

           “That was no normal storm.”

           “Agreed, but I merely enhanced what would normally be a natural event.   Since the storm normally would have great power, with my help it became unstoppable.   Working with nature is so much easier than working against it.”

           Enavir was amazed at the casual complacency with which he described his actions, as though summoning a monster storm was nothing laborious but then he realised that for Feynriel that was probably just how it seemed.     He shook his head with an incredulous smile and changed the subject.

           “Is there anything in particular I can do for you whilst I’m in Minrathous?”

           “As a matter of fact there is. There is an old paper of Alexius’ wife that was written years ago when she was still an apprentice. It was called ‘Speculations on the Veil and the Fade’.   It had some revolutionary ideas and she was ridiculed for many of them but Alexius encouraged her to pursue some of them in later years and they formed the backbone of her research.   However, I saw a copy of it and some of the more radical theories were never touched on.   It would be helpful if you could get Dorian to find a copy.”

           “I thought you regarded him as the enemy.”

           “You’ve got it back to front.   I regard Tevinter as the enemy and I questioned whether you forget that because of Dorian.   However, he is your mate, so I will afford him the same trust as I do you, without ever allowing that to cloud my judgement where Tevinter is concerned or affect my decisions with respect to my people.   Besides I anticipate that it will not be long before I am unmasked to the world at large.”

           “Surely you have done that already with the storm and you showed your face to the tamassran and the other surviving qunari.”

           “As I have already explained, the storm may not be reported beyond these shores as anything other than a natural event.   Only the tamassran got to see me up close and I could wipe her memory easily enough if I choose.”

           Enavir remembered how Solas was even able to wipe the memory of a spirit like Cole.   It was disconcerting just how much a dreamer could affect the minds of others.   He thought about the things that were claimed for blood mages, which Feynriel said were merely mimicking the powers of dreamers.

           “Could you kill someone by attacking their mind through the Fade?”

           “You mean as blood mages are said to have done in the past? In theory I could but there are limits to what I can do.   The person must be known to me.   I could not, for example, kill the Arishok because I have never met him and the memories of other people are sufficiently vague that they would not help.” He gave a teasing smile. “You on the other hand I would have no trouble with.”

           When he saw the discomfort on Enavir’s face, he laughed. “Relax, my friend, I’d have to get past your spirit first, which I thought was the purpose in bonding with it.   In any case, I consider killing someone in their sleep a cowardly act and it could potentially attract the attention of other powerful beings in the Fade, which would not be wise.”

           “You mean Solas?”

           “Demons and possibly other blood mages as well but it is true that Fen’Harel is now my chief concern. I wish to avoid his gaze for as long as possible.”

           “How can you be sure he hasn’t discovered you already?”

           “I doubt he found me when I was still in Tevinter because he would have been distracted by the activities of Aurelian Titus.   Since coming to the island I have been shielded from prying eyes in the outside world by the fog and if he had been on the island I would have detected _him_.   So for now I am still an unknown force to him.   I intend to keep it that way for as long as possible, which is why I haven’t attempted to try and locate him, besides the difficulties I would encounter in doing so.   Your memories of him are strong, so they might be sufficient to enable me to find him but I must be prepared for the encounter when I do.   The Dalish believe Fen’Harel to be a dangerous force in the Fade and I have no doubt that this is true.   If he can turn people to stone with just a thought outside the Fade, I dread to think what he is capable of within it.”

           “You spoke of the fog protecting you.”

           “The nature of the fog is something of a mystery but the Fog Dancers told me that it has always helped negate the magic of Tevinter when they are shrouded in it and confuses the minds of others, so they cannot find their way through it.   It is why the enemy could never find their way on to the plateau.”

           “Is that why the Fog People seem so confident of their safety up there?”

           “It would seem so.   The fog there is permanent and it is why the Fog People believe the plateau is holy to Nahar. It is interesting but there is a stanza in the Chant about Fog. ‘Through blinding midst, I climb a sheer cliff, the summit shrouded in fog, the base endlessly far beneath my feet.   The Maker is the rock to which I cling.’ Do you not think it significant that both the Avvar and the Fog People associate their chief god with a mountain?   Andraste was Alamaari and thus her culture related to that of the Avvar.   All are ancient human cultures so I wonder if there is a memory of something else in there.   Whatever the case, the Fog Dancers can conjure the fog in other parts of the island.   We summoned it before leaving the archipelago, as you saw yesterday.”

           “I thought you did that alone.”

           Feynriel shook his head. “I alone could not have summoned a storm of that magnitude or created a lasting fog in the area.   That could only be accomplished by the March of the Four Winds.”

           “Lauren told me that is what the Dancers were performing across the island.”

           “Indeed, that ritual expressed the collective will of the people but I also had the four senior Dancers join me on the eastern islets to perform the main summoning, with me as the nexus joining and focusing their magic.   In a way I became a living foci.”

           “Did they teach you about that?”

           “Not exactly; they recounted their legends and I also studied the pictures in our ancient temple on the mountain.   I was pretty sure this would be how it could be accomplished and then your memories confirmed it.   They showed large numbers of elves working in concert to produce great works of magic.   In fact that is why I do not believe that Fen’Harel created the Veil alone, even with his orb.   That would act as the foci either alone or combined with his will but it must have drawn magic from another source.”

           “His followers perhaps, working together?”

           “It could be.”

           “In which case, the power to lower the Veil might require a similar co-operation.”

           “That is my belief.   He told you he would have used the orb to tear down the Veil but when Corypheus used it, he only tore holes in it.   You were able to repair those tears with the anchor and it is entirely possible that talented mages, working together, could have accomplished the same without the anchor, possibly with the help of benign spirits.   To destroy the Veil completely he would need an immense boost of power, most likely needing the aid of others.”

           “So could that be what the delay has been for, to allow him to gather enough allies to assist him?”

           “That is my hypothesis.   The last time you spoke with him, he seemed determined to go through with his plan.   Clearly he has not done so.   Whatever the delay, it would seem that he could not go through with it by virtue of his power alone.   That is a reason for hope.”

           “I’m glad you think so.”

           “Iveani,” Ataashi’s voice intruded on their discussion.

           “I’m here, little one. Come, join us for breakfast.”

           The young qunari sat up beside Feynriel and on seeing Enavir studied him intently.

           “Why do you mark your face like that?”

           “We Dalish call them vallaslin, blood writing.   They are meant to signify allegiance to a particular elven god but in my case it simply shows that I am a free elf and submit to no one.”

           “So you don’t follow the elven gods?”

           “Not anymore.”

           “Why?”

           “Because I found out they weren’t really gods.”

           “Tamma said the gods did not exist,” she said thoughtfully. “Do you believe in Nahar?”

           “I do, but I know him by a different name.   I call him Bellanaris, the Eternal Spirit.   It is my belief that he guided me to find Iveani.”

           “That is my belief too,” Feynriel told her. “He wants us to save the world together.”

           Enavir tried not to show the surprise he felt at that declaration.   Ataashi pondered on the information before speaking.

           “Do you think he wanted you to find me?”

           “I’m sure of it, little one,” said Feynriel.   “I think we need you too.”

           Her face slowly expressed a knowing awareness and smile formed.

           “Asit tal-eb. That is my purpose.”

           Enavir detected a flicker of annoyance on Feynriel’s face but he covered it well and then responded kindly.

           “I’m sure it is.”   He stood up.   “Stay and finish your breakfast.   Jagurandi will know where to find me when you are ready.”

           Enavir followed him as he started to walk along the beach.   When he was out of earshot of Ataashi, Feynriel spoke.

           “It will take time to break their hold on her consciousness. That is hardly surprising considering the tamassran was grooming her to be another of their number.”

           “To be fair, you are not averse to using the philosophy of Koslun.”

           “True, though I use it more to criticise and challenge perceptions, not reinforce their teaching.” He shook his head reflectively. “What a waste that they would silence a child with such a mind because of a warped view of magic.”

           “At least you were able to save her.”

           “But how many others have been lost down the years?”

           “You could say the same about the southern Circles and the mages made tranquil?”

           “That is true, I might have been lost but for Hawke.”

           “You were a special case.”

           “So is Ataashi.”

           “You mean she is a dreamer?”

           Feynriel nodded. “What I wonder is whether she is just a rarity among her kind, as I was among mine, or if there is a hidden truth here and all saarebas are like her.”

           “You cannot be serious?”

           “Why not?   Considering how repressed their mages are, they show remarkable power when unleashed.   What is all the more extraordinary is that the Qun have such prohibitions about the Fade that their minds seem conditioned not to enter it or maybe they deliberately put herbs in the food to prevent it.   People have remarked how seldom qunari are encountered in the Fade.   On Seheron the only ones I have encountered were Tal-Vashoth and they weren’t mages.   Yet I have been confronted by saarebas in the real world and have had to deal with their magic, so from whence do they draw their power?”

           “How would being a dreamer make any difference?”

           “You are connected to the Fade without even being aware of it.   You have to take steps, as I did, if you want to keep yourself from it.   Not only that, demons are drawn to dreamers so without understanding and proper training, they are more likely to become possessed.”

           “So it could have been a vicious circle with the more frequent possession fuelling the idea that mages needed to be kept under strict control but without the training that would prevent it, except that could apply to any mage not just a dreamer.”

           “That is true. There is another alternative. Their blood is mingled with that of dragons. Maybe the qunari mages draw their power from their own blood.”

           “Blood magic?”

           “Again, without their controllers realising that is what is occurring.   There are too few qunari outside of the Qun to know.   Whatever the case, Ataashi is a dreamer and I am convinced that had we not freed her when we did, she would have been lost to the Void.”

           “When did you discover this?”

           “The moment I took her in my arms and connected with her mind.   The dark ones were circling, waiting for the moment to pounce.   We came only just in time.”

           “Then maybe you were right in what you told her and it was the will of Nahar.”

           “There is no maybe about it.   It is the way it is meant to be.”

           They found the other companions with the Fog Warriors having a more substantial breakfast of breadfruit, quinola and coconut milk.   Enavir explained to the others about his proposed trip to Minrathous and expressed the hope that they didn’t object.

            Fenris rolled his eyes.   “You want to have an assignation with your lover, how could we possibly object?”

            Feynriel looked questioningly at Fenris. “I suppose you’d like to go too.”

            Fenris shook his head. “Hawke and I haven’t been apart as long as those two have and besides I have no wish to go into the lair of my enemy if I don’t have to.   Hawke understands.”

            Neither of the other two raised any objections but Lauren asked him to give Dorian her love.   With breakfast finished, Feynriel took Enavir to one side and briefly joined consciousness with him, so he could impart his memory of Minrathous.

            “I will also do the same for Swiftwing, so you should be able to find your way there successfully between the two of you.   While I am doing that you should make yourself ready for the journey.”

            Enavir collected together his gear and then went to where he had seen the eagles land.   Swiftwing was there and gave a chirup of greeting when he saw Enavir.  

            “It’s important that you aren’t seen flying in,” said Feynriel, “which is why it has to be done under cover of dark.   Normally the eagles fly too high for anyone to see you on their backs even with a spyglass but this will be different.”

            “Won’t they have lookouts or wards or something?”

            “Qunari can’t fly.   In fact none of their enemies can.   The only danger from the skies would be a dragon and there have been none of them over the skies of Minrathous in years.”

            “Dorian mentioned something about flying cows.”

            “Probably some idiot apprentice losing control of a levitation spell.   Relax I’m sure my memories can get you to the roof of Dorian’s house without arousing suspicion.  

            “I’ll trust to your judgement on that one.”

            “You can’t leave Swiftwing there though or people will notice, so he’ll come back for you tomorrow night. You need to have done all you want to by then. Be sure to be on the roof again by midnight at the latest, so you can be back safe on Seheron before dawn.”

            “Okay. If there is a problem, I’ll let Fenris know, I’ll give him my crystal.”

            “Actually that won’t be necessary, I’ll be kept informed.” He produced a wicker basket, with a small furry animal curled up asleep inside. “A present for the Archon, I seem to recall he likes cats.   Just let her out when you get there.”

            Enavir had wondered why Feynriel had been so accommodating, now he knew why.   Still, he couldn’t blame him for wanting one of his spies on the ground in Minrathous and it might prove useful having a new source of information, providing Feynriel was willing to share what he found.   In any case, he couldn’t refuse without offending him, so he placed the strap from the basket over his head and climbed aboard.   Swiftwing lifted smoothly into the air and started to move away from their camp.

            “See you the day after tomorrow,” called Feynriel.                              

            The first part of the journey was as far as the edge of the plateau on the side nearest Tevinter.   Here they rested for the afternoon, before taking off again as the sun sank towards the horizon. To begin with Swiftwing stayed above the clouds, away from prying eyes and Enavir felt a certain shortness of breath. He wondered if that was associated with the height they were at, although Swiftwing didn’t seem inconvenienced.

            After a time there was a change in the air.   He felt the eagles descending and a brief glance told him they were crossing the ocean. Although darkness had set in, the moon was high and he could see it glinting on the water. There was nothing else to see now except the endless expanse of ocean that lay between Seheron and Minrathous. The steady, almost silent, beat of the wings was very soothing and he reminded himself not to be lulled into a false sense of security.   He needed to stay awake or he would slip off the bird’s back and be lost in the waves below.

            At last he saw a landmass off in the distance, silhouetted against the sea by the light of the moon.   As they approached, it was clear that it was topped by a cityscape and pin pricks of light indicated that not all the inhabitants would be asleep. Swiftwing started to climb once more until he was circling above Minrathous, presumably waiting while he got his bearings so he could direct him where to go next.   He wondered how much clearer it would be through the bird’s eyes.   To his own, whilst certain major features like the docks, the Proving Grounds and a tall tower that he took to be the Circle of Magi, were obvious to him, the rest seemed just an indistinct jumble of buildings and illuminations.   Clearly, Swiftwing was able to make sense of it because he started to descend in a gentle spiral, before briefly levelling out and then landing on a flat roof.   Enavir slid off the bird and took a few moments to orient himself to solid ground once more.  

            A plaintiff meow came from the basket.   He lifted the strap over his head and placed it on the ground.   Presumably it wouldn’t matter to the cat whose roof they were on, so he undid the straps holding the lid in place and released it.   The cat, a marbled tortoiseshell in colour, gave an extravagant stretch and then sauntered off to lose itself in the foliage of the various plants that were kept on the roof.   Enavir patted Swiftwing by way of thanks but the bird appeared to be waiting for something and started to preen himself.

            Their presence did not appear to have activated any security wards since there was no sound of any activity heading in the direction of the roof. Clearly Feynriel had been correct in his assumption that the residents of Minrathous did not expect attack from above.   A very complaisant attitude Enavir thought. Had they not heard of the increased dragon activity in the south?   He started to walk around the perimeter of the roof to get his bearings. On one side lanterns, presumably maintained permanently by magic, illuminated a substantial garden and to either side of the building were other similar properties. He moved to what he assumed must be the front of the building and looked over.   Down below was a wide thoroughfare, also illuminated by lanterns, with guards of the night watch on patrol. A number of sedan chairs passed along the street, followed by a small carriage, which stopped outside the building he was in.

            To his relief and delight the first person to alight from it was Dorian.   He turned and offered his hand to Hawke, who emerged dressed in regal finery.   Enavir had never seen her in anything but battle armour and was astonished to see how well the clothing suited her.   He had almost forgotten that she was actually from a long line of nobility in Kirkwall.

            He moved back to Swiftwing and whispered that he could leave now as it was the right house.   Immediately the eagle lifted off and returned the way he had come. Enavir recalled that in the south the master bedroom would normally be placed at the rear of the noble’s city house, away from the noise of the street. He assumed that a similar design would be favoured among northern nobility as well, so he moved back to the side of the roof overlooking the rear terrace.   He recalled that Dorian’s study was at the rear as well, with a veranda.   That meant that other living rooms were likely on that level as well. The top of the house would be for the servants, so that meant the main bedrooms would probably be on the floor in between.   A faint glow seemed to be coming from two of these rooms, indicating lamps had been left illuminated awaiting their return.  

            Enavir opted to examine the one above Dorian’s study first as there was a sturdy looking vine growing up against the house on that side, which he could use to lower himself down to the balcony wall. The curtains were slightly apart and the glazed doors open to allow ventilation. He was just wondering if he should chance actually stepping on to the floor when he heard the inner door opening and two sets of footsteps, then Dorian’s voice.

            “There Linus, everything is as it should be.   The glyphs on the terrace would have activated if anyone had tried to enter from that direction.   Leave the window open, I feel the need for some fresh air.”

            Enavir gave a grin. Dorian had likely taken a little too much wine.

            “There’s no need to stay, I can undress myself.”

            Enavir heard the door close, lightly stepped onto the balcony and peered through a gap in the curtains.   Dorian had his back to him, carefully unbuckling the armour beneath his dress robes. Enavir approved of the fact that Dorian was not using a servant to undress himself and thought it might be expedient to loosen a few of his own buckles, after which he silently crept up behind Dorian and whispered in his ear.

            “I thought I would do something ridiculously romantic.”

            “Amatus!” Dorian whirled round, his eyes wide with disbelief.

            Then before Enavir could get out a word of explanation, Dorian grabbed his face and kissed him, before spinning him round and pushing him forcefully backwards until the back of his legs hit the bed and he toppled into it. Enavir reflected briefly that Fenris had been right and Dorian needed no erotic stimulation, after which it was impossible to think rationally at all.

 

 


	23. Chapter 23

           “So you’re _not_ going to tell me exactly how you got here? Dorian said with just a tinge of annoyance.

            It was already many hours past sun rise and the light dappled the sheets through the gently billowing curtains. Enavir was lying in the crook of his arm, heading resting comfortably on Dorian’s shoulder and wanting to do nothing more than relax and possibly sleep after a night spent in repeated amorous activity.   He really hoped Dorian wasn’t spoiling for a fight.

            “It’s not that I want to keep secrets from you but Feynriel made it very clear he didn’t want Tevinter to know and if I betray his trust, he might not let me use that means again.”

            “Hmm now, well I wouldn’t want that, considering what a delightfully pleasant surprise this visit was.” He nibbled Enavir’s ear affectionately.

            “Then again he did say he trusted you as my mate even if you are from Tevinter.”

            “What a delightfully droll way he has of describing our relationship.”

            “Yes, he is peculiar like that. So why don’t you guess?”

            “No, I’ll just count my blessings. I wouldn’t want to offend your new friend. It will add to your aura of mystery. How did Dorian’s lover sneak into the heart of Minrathous without anyone being the wiser? It is a secret known only to the birds.”

            Enavir wondered if Dorian suspected the truth considering how close he was to the answer.   He kept his face and voice impassive.

            “It will be the riddle of the age.”

            Dorian chuckled, tilted his face up and kissed him on the lips.

            “How long will I have the pleasure?”

            “Only until midnight I’m afraid.”

            “What happens then, will you turn into a pumpkin?”

            “No, I’ll disappear into thin air.”

            “Dear me, there’s no fun in that.   We’d better make the most of it then.”

            He started a trail of kisses down Enavir’s body, starting with his neck and Enavir felt a shiver of delight and anticipation animate his body once more.   If he wasn’t careful he would get nothing else done on the visit at all.   Reluctantly he stopped Dorian mid-way down his chest.

            “Feynriel wants me to do something for him while I’m here too.”

            “I am rapidly starting to dislike this fellow and I haven’t even met him. If it isn’t enough that I’m only allowed one day with you, he wants it to involve business as well as pleasure?”

            “I think that was a condition of the visit.”

            “I see and what exactly _are_ you meant to do?”

            “Get the Archon to agree to back off on Seheron. Once we’ve liberated it from the Qunari, the people will be left free to govern it for themselves.”

            “Oh is that all?” Dorian was at his most sarcastic. “Why don’t we just pop up there and put it to him before breakfast?”

            “I just wanted you to be aware of how things stand. If your people try and take advantage of the situation and start their spoiler tactics again like they used to use with the Qun, I think they will come to regret it and not just on Seheron.”

            “Like they used to use?   We’re still fighting them aren’t we?”

            “From what I’ve heard the Archon and possibly the Magisterium haven’t been entirely honest about how things have been up there since Aurelian Titus died.   The Qun and Feynriel had neutralised most of your agents even before the latest assault began on the mainland.   Mind you the Fog Warriors have had the Qun on the back foot as well and now they’re as good as gone.   This is more of a courtesy call really, so it doesn’t take you entirely unawares when the news comes through.   I imagine the Archon may start asking questions particularly if word should get back that the Liberator was part of it."

            “Then keep your involvement secret.”

            “I think it may help their cause if he knows I _am_ involved.   Feynriel agrees with me that change is coming but we can make it on our terms if we all work together for the benefit of all.   There isn’t a place in it for imperialistic sentiments.   So you should either be content with what you still have or risk losing it all.”

            “It’s not up to me, Amatus, and if I push my luck further with the Archon, I might well end up being arrested as a traitor.”

            “If they do that, then they _will_ lose it all. I’ll make sure of it.”

            “I’m just being realistic. You need to tread carefully, for my sake if nothing else.”

            Enavir closed his eyes briefly and breathed deeply to calm himself, before looking back into Dorian’s eyes.

            “Okay Ma’Salath, I’ll play down my contribution and you can leave the Archon to stew in ignorance.”

            “Thank you.”

            “In return you promise me you’ll let me know if there is the slightest hint of danger to you.”

            “I’m not entirely incapable of protecting myself.”

            “I managed to sneak into your bedroom.   I saw you get out of the carriage as well. If I _had_ been an assassin I would have had a clear shot on you.”

            “And I had my magical barriers on the whole time. As for my bedroom, I doubt that Tevinter assassins have your means of entry.” Dorian spoke with affronted dignity but a slight, suggestive curl of the lip.

            “That’s true.”

            “Now can I carry on where I left off?”

            “You really are incorrigible.”

            “I try my best.” He laughed wickedly.

*****

            Some hours later the two of them were dozing peacefully when there was a gentle knock at the door.

            “Master Dorian, are you awake?”

            “What is it Linus?” Dorian responded lazily.

            “Lady Hawke is enquiring whether you would be joining her for lunch.”

            “What do you think?” Dorian whispered to him. “Should I keep you secreted in here or are you willing to be shown off to the servants?”

            “I think we should be sociable.”

            “Okay,” Dorian agreed. He raised his voice again. “Tell her I’ll be down after I’ve had my bath and ask the maids to heat up the water immediately. Please inform cook that there will be an additional guest at table.   Only don’t stand on ceremony and serve it on the veranda. It’s a lovely day.”

            “Very good, Master Dorian.”

            “ _Master_ Dorian?”

            “Old habits die hard. You know it _is_ customary for ordinary servants to use the term master too.”

            “I didn’t actually but then I am an ignorant peasant myself.   I suppose that would account for why my steward in Kirkwall was so affronted when I insisted he didn’t.”

            Dorian shook his head in pretend exasperation at his lack of breeding.

            “If we ever get the chance to adopt mutual domesticity, you will have a lot to learn.   Now, how about a bath.….together?”

            “Together?   Won’t that scandalise the servants?”

            “You forget; they are already familiar with our correspondence, not to mention my reputation.” He winked. “Don’t worry, we’ll send them out of the room. I’ll tell them you’re shy.”

            ‘I hope Hawke is prepared for a _late_ lunch,’ thought Enavir.

*****

            In the end it was only an hour past noon when they joined Hawke on the veranda. The servants immediately started bustling around bringing the appetisers.   Pitchers of water and fruit juice were already on the table together with a bottle of wine awaiting approval from the host.   Dorian did so and the wine servant moved on round the table to offer it to his guests. Hawke accepted willingly enough but Enavir confined himself initially to having half a glass. He needed to pace himself if he was to keep a clear head for the ride back.

            “How did you find the Archon and the Magisterium, Hawke?” Enavir started the conversation.

            “He was pretty much what I expected, insufferably sure of his right to rule and his superiority over us lesser southern mages.”   She gave a glance at Dorian with a twinkle in her eye. “Nevertheless he was gracious enough to thank me on behalf of the Viscount of Kirkwall for his continued support in these difficult times, particularly his efforts in ensuring the continued supply of lyrium to the Imperium.”

            “I thought that is what the people of Arlathan Forest were doing.”

            “Credit where it is due,” said Hawke. “There would be no lyrium without the merchants’ guild or the goodwill of the Carta and Varric has been smoothing the wheels there. Besides I think the Archon likes to ignore inconvenient truths or spin them to his advantage.   I was constantly asked at the reception if I had met the Magister in command of the Imperium’s outpost in the Arlathan Forest.”

            “The Imperium’s outpost?” Enavir narrowed his eyes at Dorian.

            “If you recall you did suggest your settlement could remain a _province_ of Tevinter and Telanadas _was_ originally our fortress.”

            Enavir stared hard at Dorian, who gave a resigned shrug.

            “Okay, if you must know, the Archon and the Magisterium have been calling the defeat of the Qun outside Qarinus and their eradication in Arlathan Forest a victory for the _Imperium_.   The Archon conveniently glossed over the fact that the newly exalted Laetan mage was in fact a southern Dalish elf, instead referring to him as a descendant of a family native to the region, recently returned to the fold.”

            “And the liberation of the slaves?”

            “Barely a ripple on the Imperium’s consciousness,” Dorian sighed. “The Magister utilised an army of slaves just as the Imperium has always done.”

            “You _knew_ this?” Enavir was furious.

            “I guessed that something of the sort would happen but I didn’t know the details until I got back to Minrathous.   By then the damage was done and I could hardly go against the official line in the Magisterium and name the Archon a liar.”

            “You could have told _me_.”

            “What good would that have done?   You were risking your neck taking on the Crows. That was enough without you steaming across to Minrathous to vent your anger on the Magisterium.   I would point out that you have hardly been forthright with me all these months.   You’ve been plotting all this time to take over on Seheron as well.”

            “Driving out the Qun in the process, which will once again aid the Imperium without the inhabitants getting anything in return.   Besides, I am not taking over on Seheron. Fenris and I are helping to liberate its people.   After that, they will govern themselves.”

            “Erm, you might want to lower your voices,” suggested Hawke.   “What about the neighbours and the servants for that matter?”

            “Don’t worry, my servants are loyal and the neighbours absent,” Dorian said airily. “Plus these noble houses have wards of protection which prevent you being overheard from outside the building and that extends to the edge of structures, which includes the veranda.   We can scheme with impunity.”

            Enavir noticed the cat he had brought with him move into view behind Dorian’s chair.   He wondered how much notice Dorian paid to the stories of his childhood about the founder of the Imperium. The cat stared at Enavir and held his gaze long enough to make a point, before sitting down and casually starting to wash.   Enavir had no doubt that Feynriel was aware of every word that had been spoken.   Dorian noticed the direction of his gaze and glanced behind him.

            “Where did that come from? That’s not one I’ve seen before.”

            “It came with me actually.   Feynriel sent her as a goodwill gift for the Archon but I suppose there wouldn’t be much point now in view of what you’ve said.”

            “Well he does love his cats.   It’s about the only good thing you can say about him. May be I’ll keep her in reserve for when the news about Seheron comes through.   Until then I’ll make sure the servants look after her.”

            Enavir felt sure the cat could look after herself but he couldn’t tell Dorian about the cat’s true purpose without revealing Feynriel’s secret.   He felt somewhat torn in his loyalties and worried about putting Dorian in a compromising situation, as Feynriel had said he would.

            “If I were you I would just give her the run of the city and forget about the present aspect. After all we don’t know what he uses his cats for.”

            “What on earth would you use a cat for other than a mutual appreciation society and catching mice?”

            Dorian didn’t have much time for pets or animals generally Enavir had noticed. Strangely enough he had always imagined that Dorian would make a good cat, with his air of superiority and grace of movement.

            “Anders used to love cats too,” Hawke said wistfully.   “Raven gave him a cat as a present but the other wardens disapproved and made him get rid of it. Stupid fools said it made him soft.   What did he call it now? Oh I remember, Ser Pouncealot.”

            “That’s terrible,” Enavir laughed, glad of the distraction. “It’s almost as bad as Freddie MacFeathers.   That’s what Lauren calls a macaw that befriended her on the island. She sends her love by the way.”

            Dorian rang a small bell and the servants started to clear the dishes from the first course and replace them with platters of local fish and meat, plus a variety of salad fare.   The wine servant recharged their glasses and then they were left in peace to eat once more.

            “So tell me about Feynriel,” said Hawke. “Fenris told me he’d barely recognised him, he’s grown so much in confidence and ability from his time in Kirkwall but he wouldn’t elaborate much beyond that.”

            “He still speaks of you with gratitude and hasn’t forgotten the debt he owes you but whilst he appreciated the opportunities he was given in being sent to Tevinter, he has a pretty poor opinion of the mages here.”

            “I gathered as much when we were still corresponding.”    

            “He thinks your Altus mage families aren’t nearly as powerful in magic as they would like to maintain,” he grinned at Dorian. “The whole reason they use blood magic behind the scenes is that they don’t want to reveal they couldn’t do much real magic without it, with the obvious exceptions of course.”

            “There is the prohibition of the Chant to consider as well.”

            “Come off it, the Black Divine is widely known to use it, everyone in the south knows it and the two Chantries have been at odds over the issue of magic since the Black Age. What would be the point of covering it up unless they don’t want the Soporati to know they aren’t as powerful as they used to be?   Generations of selective breeding ought to have ensured the lines only ever produced superior offspring such as you but that is clearly not the case.   Felix’s magic was negligible and yet he came from two long and ancient lines. Livius Erimond was pathetic without the power he acquired from Corypheus and the use of blood magic. Aurelian Titus acquired a fearsome reputation off the back of blood magic and kidnapping anyone he perceived as a threat. Feynriel had to hide out on Seheron because he had discovered Titus’ secret.   The only decent mage I’ve encountered was Calpernia.”

            “And she was a former slave,” Dorian admitted. “Still I think he underestimates the strength of the Altus bloodlines.   My father _was_ a talented mage, as was Alexius, as was his wife Livia and they didn’t rely on blood magic.   There are talented mages among the Lucerni, Maevaris for one.”

            “You admit that people like yourself, who resist the lure of blood magic, are in the minority.   I’m concerned that this new cult we have unearthed may have a much larger following than you realise and go much higher up the chain of command.   Feynriel thinks the Black Divine tacitly approved of Aurelian Titus, even though he opposed him in public.   He made a good point, backed by Fenris, that if he had really butted up against the Black Divine, he wouldn’t have lasted long, particularly after his original sponsor was removed from the scene.   Something is rotten at the heart of your society and we need to bring it to light if you are going to save it.”

            “Well, I have been doing my best.”

            “Feynriel thinks you should be looking in the Chantry archives, the ones with restricted access.”

            “That won’t be easy, particularly if they are hiding something.”

            “I might be able to help there,” suggested Hawke. “The Archon has already approved my research in the public archives.   I could try asking to extend that permission to the Chantry records. They can always say no but it’s worth a try.”

            “Given what Dorian’s fiancée was investigating and her links with the Black Divine, I think it’s highly likely they’ll say no.”

            “Nothing ventured, nothing gained,” said Hawke with a grin, “and the very fact they do refuse would be telling in itself.”

            “He would also like you to look for an old paper of Alexius’ wife that was written years ago when she was still an apprentice, called ‘Speculations on the Veil and the Fade’.”

            “So why the interest now?”

            “He seemed to think there were some radical ideas in there that might be worth looking at but didn’t elaborate beyond that.   I think it may have some relevance to the problem with Solas.”

            “I may be able to hunt down a copy in the Circle archives. If she wrote it as an apprentice then it may be under her family name of Arida and because it was before she graduated, it may even have missed being cross referenced with her other works, being kept among archives of student work.”

            After lunch, Dorian took him on a tour of the house. He pointed out that since they were unofficially a married couple everything he owned was as much Enavir’s as his own, so he wanted him to see it. Of course it also allowed Dorian to boast a little at the antiquity of the building and the elegance on display but Enavir didn’t begrudge him the opportunity.  It was pleasant to be able to focus on the trivial aspects of Dorian’s life rather than more contentious issues, even if he did wonder at the cost of maintaining such opulent splendour and whether the money could be better spent elsewhere.   Dorian must have suspected some of this unvoiced disapproval and he was at pains to point out the number of servants he was required to _employ_ in order to ensure the proper upkeep of the place.   Enavir gave a smirk by way of acknowledgement that he understood the point that Dorian was trying to make.

            Dorian was due to meet some of the more influential Lucerni later that afternoon in order to introduce Hawke to them properly, away from official gatherings, but had suggested he could put it off for another day.   Enavir told him not to worry and to go ahead with the meeting as planned.   He would take the opportunity for an afternoon nap.

            Dinner was a more formal affair held in the regular dining room.  It was all very elegant and urbane with fine china and gold cutlery.  Wine was decanted into cut crystal glasses, whilst the servants busied around in their best livery, delivering and clearing the dishes for each successive course with smooth efficiency, without needing any direction from the master of the house, Linus prowling the perimeter to ensure that everyone fulfilled their duties correctly.  Whilst Enavir could appreciate the steady employment that was being provided, he did wonder if all the pomp and show as really necessary and if his husband would appreciate him recommending changes to the routine.   He decided that would be for such a time in the future as he maintained a permanent residence with his beloved.  Instead he thought he would focus on more immediate concerns.

            “Is all well with the Lucerni?”               

            “It depends what you mean by well?   Everyone is concerned by the Qunari threat, particularly as some of them have estates in the south.”

            “What about your crusade against the use of blood magic.”

            “Those present agreed that this is going to be even more difficult in a time of war.   People are apt to feel that the end really does justify the means in that case.”

            “Have you told them about the rogue cult?”

            “We have discussed it previously but there have been no leads as yet from that quarter.   Today, though, they were far more interested in Hawke and her fabled battle with the Arishok.”

            Hawke raised her eyebrows expressively.

            “Dorian advised me beforehand not to be modest about the whole enterprise but play up my part for all it was worth.”

            “So lie basically?” suggested Enavir.

            “Just miss out the less heroic bits, like the fact that he fought much of the time with my Mabari hauling on his pants.   The magic I used against him was genuinely of interest to them.   The Force Mage specialism is something that is native to Kirkwall.   They are familiar with some of the spells but not used in combination with one another.”

            “Then talk circled back to my own experiences with them,” said Dorian. “I believe I mentioned to you before that the Magisterium is planning some sort of big push in the south and they are touting for field commanders among the aristocracy.   Some of my group feel it is their patriotic duty to volunteer.”

            “Not you though?” Enavir said with concern.

            “Relax; I did my share against the Viddasala and at the Siege of Qarinus.   I’m not itching to take them on again.   If they start forcibly conscripting that would be a different matter but there would be outrage among the Altus if they did that.   I’m safe for the present, so far as front line battlefield is concerned.   Mind you, at least there you can see your enemy coming.”

            “That’s true.” Enavir reflected. “Are you any closer to finding out who killed your father?”

            “Not really.   I’m just hoping that they may show themselves eventually.   It still seems a good bet they are connected in some way with your rogue cult.”

            Once dinner was ended, they stayed in the drawing room for a time sipping after dinner spirits and making further plans about how their archive studies would proceed, but as the evening wore on Dorian winked repeatedly at Enavir until he had to relent and nodded his assent in return.

            “If you would be so good as to excuse us, Enavir and I would like to make our farewells before he has to return to Seheron.”

            Hawke nodded with a smirk and said she quite understood.   Enavir bid her goodbye and then followed Dorian out of the room.   Back in the bedroom, their love making was less frenetic than the previous night, with more foreplay of tender intimacy.   However, Enavir was less inclined to fall asleep afterwards, his mind still whirling with thoughts of unfinished business as he lay in Dorian’s arms.   The latter appeared to sense this.

            “You seem distracted.   Care to share?”

            “How much _do_ you know about blood magic?”

            “Way to kill the mood, Amatus. Where does that enquiry spring from?”

            “Some of the things Feynriel can do replicate the spells that I previously understood only a blood mage can perform; only he says that really blood magic is a way of reproducing what true dreamers can do.”

            “You mentioned that theory of his earlier.   How he thinks we’re all degenerate shadows of what Tevinter once was.”

            “To be honest I think he feels Tevinter was always degenerate, or at least the Imperium was.   He seems to agree with your ancestor, that they started with animal sacrifice and then worked up to humans and elves.   That’s not what’s bothering me though. You said you could trust your servants but could they stand up to interrogation?”

            “Torture you mean?   They can’t just haul my servants off the street without good reason.   It’s written into our laws.”

            “Are you sure about that?   And they wouldn’t need to use physical torture.   I’ve seen how Feynriel uses his magic to interrogate suspected collaborators.   He says it is harder the more the victim resists but he managed to break through the discipline of a deep cover Ben’Hassrath agent like Chroix. What chance would your servants have?   Were you there when they questioned the slaves in Qarinus?”

            “No, of course not.”

            “So how do you know they didn’t use blood magic to force it from them?”

            Dorian looked troubled but made no reply.

            “I just think you should be a bit more careful about what you say in front of the servants and what you leave lying around, that’s all, for their sake if not your own.”

            “Unfortunately, ignorance probably wouldn’t avail them much if what you suspect is true but I take your point.” He gave a laboured sigh. “Anything else you want to mention?”

            “Do you remember the people who worked with Livia Alexius?”

            “Vaguely; I didn’t mix with them much. They were following a different line of research to mine and Alexius wanted me to stay focussed.”

            Enavir smiled inwardly at Alexius’ reasons for this prohibition but then returned to his original line of thought.

            “Feynriel’s sponsor was formerly one of her apprentices and was still working with her when Feynriel first joined him.”

            “I see.”

            “Apparently he started taking an interest in the Venatori, which was when he asked Feynriel to leave, seeing as he had southern loyalties.”

            “Well you can rest assured he is probably among the people I got you to kill.”

            He put an edge of sarcasm into his voice as he continued.

            “Is there anything else connected with your new friend that you’d like to mention in order to delay a resumption of our passion?”

            Enavir rolled over in the bed on to his front to stare at Dorian teasingly.

            “Feynriel remembers you.”

            “Does he now?   That’s hardly surprising; I am a memorable fellow.”

            “That’s what he said.   He called you the Peacock.”

            “That is the meaning of Pavus,” Dorian responded dryly.   “I hope he didn’t accuse me of anything because I’m almost sure I never seduced any southern apprentices.”

            “Almost sure?” Enavir gave him a mocking look. “Have you really had _that_ many lovers you can’t remember?”

            For a moment Dorian looked a bit flustered and at a loss for words.

            “Speechless I see.” Enavir chuckled.   “Don’t worry, you can rest easy.   Feynriel says he probably never even registered on your consciousness. Looking at him, I’d say he isn’t really your type.   Not strapping enough for your tastes.”

            “How about yours?” Dorian challenged him. “I’ve noticed he seems to be occupying rather a lot of your thoughts at present.”

            “Jealous are we?” Enavir gave teasing pout.

            Dorian looked sulky. “Yes, damn it. Are you satisfied?”

            Enavir nodded and laughed.

            “There’s no need; he’s not my type either, you know that.”

            “Hmm, just to be on the safe side, I’d better make sure you can’t get _me_ out of your thoughts.” He started to kiss Enavir again, before pausing briefly to say in sensuous and seductive tones, “With an epic climax to your visit you won’t forget in a hurry.”

            Dorian was as good as his word and Enavir felt utterly sated and replete by the time he was finished, desiring nothing more than to curl up in his arms and sleep, the cares of the world banished from his mind.   The last thing he wanted to do was leave but the chirrup from the roof reminded him that he would have to. Dorian was already dozing as he gently extracted himself from his embrace.   Quickly he found his clothes and dressed, before lightly kissing Dorian and whispering.

            “Keep safe Ma’salath, until the next time.”

            Then he quietly crossed the room and climbed back to the roof.

 

 


End file.
